A Visit to Scotland
by megosborne
Summary: Follows Suitably Wed. As Fitzwilliam Darcy hurries to Scotland to prevent his cousin Anne from marrying George Wickham, Elizabeth cannot stand idly by nor bear the blame for her unwitting role in encouraging Anne's flight. She is determined to follow her husband northwards and offer what support she can, and will accept help from any quarter: even Charles Bingley.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - Happy New Year! I hope you had a wonderful break over the holidays and wanted to thank everyone who read and enjoyed my Christmas story - Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol. It was wonderful reading all your comments!_

 _This story picks up where Suitably Wed left off, in a continuation to that series. It's still very much in progress so a few things may change before publication - like the title...I am not at all creative where titles are concerned. Still, the book features a visit to Scotland by several of our key players, so as a working title at least it is more than sufficient ;)_

 _Anyway, enough chatter from me. A new story for the new year, and there is scandal afoot. Enjoy!_

* * *

"I had to write to them, George."

Anne de Bourgh's voice had taken on a plaintive note which could not be drowned out by the thunder of horses' hooves or the rumble of the carriage wheels that carried them on their journey northwards.

"I understand that," Wickham said, his patience rapidly disappearing and giving his voice a strained edge that his companion was only too aware of. Her face fell, and he instantly redoubled his efforts in placating her. The last thing he needed was for his bride to rethink the entire scheme and abandon him partway through their journey. Then all of this might be for nought.

"Dear Anne," he tried again, angling for a smile. He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, and squeezed, gently. At length, she looked at him, and her pale features relaxed into something approaching contentment. "You care too much what others think, particularly your family. It is a commendable attitude, and it pains me greatly that we must have any deceit in pursuing our future together. I only wish you might have waited before writing of our intent. What if Darcy sends ahead of us? What if he follows?" He grimaced, in an affectation of humour. "I have no wish to face him in a duel."

The idea of such a spectacle caused what little colour Anne had to drain from her cheeks.

"A duel? You do not think -"

"I do not think even Darcy so hot-tempered as to challenge me," George said, soothingly. The notion had occurred to him, fleetingly, but been dismissed without any real concern. If Darcy had not called him out over the Georgiana affair, why would he choose to do so now? Anne was older than Georgiana, a young woman in her own right, and a relationship removed from Darcy that he might have any claim over her interests. Oh, he would be angry, Wickham did not doubt that. In fact, he rather relished imagining his old friend's reaction when he had discovered Anne's note. How shocked he would be, how irritated. How personally he would take it, as if George Wickham possessed no greater impulse in life than to cause problems for Fitzwilliam Darcy to undertake to solve.

Wickham's amusement soured. It was mere coincidence that Anne de Bourgh was Darcy's cousin - although he had certainly used that connection to his advantage when first meeting and wooing said young lady. It was her dowry he was interested in, and the inheritance she stood to gain when Lady Catherine departed this earth. It would not be very long, if Anne's laments were accurate. Her mother had been brought a little low by the news of Darcy's sudden, impetuous marriage: she would be brought lower still when news of this particular scandal reached her ears. Wickham did not wish ill on the lady, indeed, he had never even met her, but he certainly would not mourn her passing if it meant her wealth would pass to her daughter and then, through marriage, to him.

"I merely fear him mounting an obstacle to our union." Wickham sighed. "Do you not think we have already faced enough delay and disruption to our plans? What need have we of more?"

Anne frowned.

"Perhaps I ought not to have left a note, in that case. Only, George, I did not want them to worry."

Wickham's smile stretched thin. _Hearing that you have absconded to Scotland with one George Wickham is rather more likely to_ cause _rather than_ prevent _worry, my love._ If he were not still rather anxious of their success, he would have laughed at Anne's unwitting actions, fancying fancied Darcy would be considerably less concerned at having no news of Anne's whereabouts, than to have his worst fears confirmed. _Still,_ _'tis done and cannot be helped now. We at least secured a head start. And he has no notion of our final destination._ He applauded his quick-thinking in not telling Anne any more than the barest outline of their plan. It had been because he had little more formed in his own mind, although he certainly did not intend to illuminate his companion to that fact. It had worked for the best, for the very most she might have confessed in that wretched note was that she and Wickham were bound for Scotland and thence to wed over the anvil, or whatever romantic spin she had put on things. He did not doubt her note full of rejoicing at their great love, and imploring her cousin not to judge her too harshly for so scandalous an action. But she could not have given Darcy any more information, which would work in their favour. Even if, by some miracle, he reached Scotland close on their heels, he would not begin to know where to start searching for them. They would wed just as soon as they crossed the border, and then what was done could not be undone, no matter how much money Fitzwilliam Darcy offered him. Wickham's smile grew. He ought to have had such a notion with Georgiana. He had tarried too long with her without securing a marriage, and thus it was perfectly within Darcy's powers to bring the entire thing screeching to a halt. He felt a pin-prick of guilt. Georgiana was a sweet thing, and he hoped she was not suffering too much at the sudden end to their relationship. He had liked her, and he had liked the fact that she idolised him so. Anne, too, looked on him almost as adoringly as Georgiana had, although her mind was altogether sharper than Darcy's sister's. She had asked a question or two already that had taken Wickham a few fancy manoeuvres to avoid answering. He must be careful and stop that behaviour before it became habit. He certainly did not wish for a wife who could think: or who would attempt to out-think _him._

"I am sure you did just what was best," he said, pulling Anne closer to him against the motion of the carriage. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed, contentment reigning once more. "I think it best we write nothing more until we are wed. I want to reassure your cousin that my intent is honourable towards you, even if our methods are a little unorthodox."

"Unorthodox?" Anne laughed. "Try shocking. Scandalous." She shuddered. "I dread to think what would be said in my absence, if this were known abroad."

"Abroad? Do you have a reputation on the continent that must be protected as well?"

Anne elbowed him in the side, and he winced, covering it with a laugh.

"I meant in Kent." She bit her lip. "I only hope William does not hasten to tell Mama of all that has happened."

"I hardly think that his most likely course of action," George said. "Does not your aunt bear some grudge against him just at present? Why, then, would she give credence to any word that comes out of his mouth?"

Anne's features fell, and George wondered if he had overstepped.

"I merely mean -" he began, hurriedly, to correct his error, but Anne waved away his explanation.

"You are right." She smiled, sadly. "I suppose I could not have picked a more providential time to act so rashly. William is as unlikely to rush to tell Mama as he is unlikely to be believed if he tried. We are safe, for now, from her wrath."

"You speak as if she will hate the news."

"She will not rejoice in it!" Anne shook her head, vehemently. "No it will take a careful approach in order to be tolerated by her upon our return, let alone welcomed."

"But she will relent," George pressed, seeing the spectre of their inheritance teeter as if on a precipice. "Surely she will wish only to know that you are happy and safe. You are her only daughter, after all."

"Yes." Anne's voice was quiet, and not at all convincing.

 _Well,_ Wickham thought _, I am not going through all of this to risk the very inheritance I wish to secure being snatched away before my eyes. If I must charm mother as well as daughter, I am sure I can manage it._ He made a note to learn all he could of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, so that he might use it in mounting his charm offensive against her upon their meeting. He had full confidence in his abilities, for he had not yet met a single woman capable of resisting his charms. He frowned. There had been Elizabeth Bennet. She, certainly, had not been so quick to fall for him as he had calculated. Or rather, she would have been, had there not been the interference of Darcy and his wretched cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam had ruined whatever chance he had of staying in Meryton. If anyone was to blame for him throwing all of his energies into the de Bourgh plan, it was Richard Fitzwilliam. Wickham's frown relaxed into a sly smile. How delighted Colonel Fitzwilliam would be if he knew what pursuits his dismissal from the regiment had led him to!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - thank you for the leaping on board and enjoying the start of this story! I hope you will keep reading and enjoy how it develops!_

 _Just fyi - I am going to be taking down some of my older stories in the next few weeks. I will leave this current series (Longbourn's Songbird, Three Weeks in Kent and Suitably Wed) up, along with Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol, but the rest will be coming down and relocating in some form or another to my website. So if you are reading them or want to read them before the move, time is of the essence, friends! ;) They are, of course, also all available for purchase wherever you buy your ebooks._

 _Enjoy chapter 2 - more soon! xx_

* * *

"Anne has gone where? With whom?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam's already pale features grew paler still, so that Mary was quite concerned. She flew to his side, bidding him sit, which he did, resting only half a moment before leaping once more to his feet and crossing the room to where Elizabeth stood, holding onto the mantel-piece for support.

"Tell me you are joking. Darcy is behind this, somehow, some strange attempt at humour I am yet to grasp?"

Elizabeth shook her head, tight-lipped with anxiety. Dark shadows ringed her eyes, and she appeared as if she had not slept above an hour the night before. Mary's anxiety stretched to include her sister, and she beckoned both her companions to sit, please, and allow her to fetch some refreshments, so that they might discuss matters with a clearer head.

"Darcy is already in pursuit, I presume?" Richard had straightened, his fingers rapping out an anxious melody on the arm of his chair. He wished to be in motion, stilled only by the two women who sat alongside him.

"He left immediately we found Anne's note," Elizabeth said, folding the missive and stowing it safely in her reticule. "He would not allow me to accompany him. That is, he preferred to travel without me."

Mary's eyes widened, momentarily, but Richard dismissed any concern with a swift nod.

"Sensible fellow. He'll travel faster alone."

Elizabeth nodded, casting her eyes down to the floor, and Mary felt a wave of sympathy for her sister. Something in her expression made Mary if that speed was the sole reason for Darcy's solitary departure. She would attempt to speak directly to her sister without Richard present, if she could, and deduce the true nature of how things had been left between her sister and her husband.

"I cannot merely wait for his return," Elizabeth said, wringing her hands in agitation. She straightened, lifting her chin as if expecting to face some opposition. "I intend to follow him."

"Lizzy!" Mary began.

"Of course," Richard said. "We shall both go." He turned to Mary. "My dear, I must g-" he got no further before his voice hitched on the consonant, sending a racking cough through him. At length he quietened, and began again.

"No." Mary spoke the word quietly, but not without authority. She met her sister's gaze with determination, and laid a hand on Richard's shoulder, stilling him from standing. "You cannot possibly go all the way to Scotland, not with your health in such poor state."

Richard opened his mouth to argue, but she silenced him with a look.

"I know you wish to help Anne and Darcy, and I very much wish to help them too, but you arriving in Scotland and immediately being laid up sick will help nobody: in fact it will hinder their progress, for you know Darcy will not leave your side if he knows you to be unwell."

Richard could not argue with this, nor did he wish to. Mary saw his irritation at being prevented subside when he recognised it was out of love for him that she was poised to be so insurmountable an obstacle.

"Yes, Mary is right," Elizabeth said, with a sad smile. "I am sorry. I ought never to have come here, knowing you were unwell. I merely wished to speak to - to speak to someone." She glanced around, restless still and now lacking the support for what would be an impossible journey to undertake alone.

"Perhaps Father will go with you," Mary offered. "Or Uncle Gardiner."

"Perhaps." Elizabeth did not seem at all inclined to ask either gentleman to undertake the journey, and Mary well understood her reluctance. Both their father and Mr Gardiner were old enough that comfort, rather than urgency, would dictate the speed they travelled the country, and it was plain to Mary that Elizabeth desired to be on her way soon, far sooner than they would allow.

"I will think about it," Elizabeth said. "And now I must leave you to rest, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Forgive me. It was very selfish of me to come."

"Not at all!" Richard said, his voice hoarse. He looked at Mary and she offered her own reassurances.

"Lizzy, dear, you were not selfish. It was important for us to be told. Oh, poor Anne!" She blinked back hot tears at the thought of her cousin and friend being so cruelly used. She recalled this Wickham, vaguely, from Hertfordshire, and she had not been fond of him then. He was showy and flirtatious and everything she did not like. Of course, she had been neither beautiful nor rich, so he had paid her little enough attention to begin with. She was not sure if they had passed even six words altogether. But Elizabeth had known him a little, a very little.

"Lizzy," Mary asked, as she escorted her sister out into the hallway, bidding Richard to stay close to the fire where he might be warm and rest. "Is it so very bad? I thought Wickham a cad, but -"

"It is far worse," Lizzy admitted, her features troubled. "There is some long-standing grief between he and Darcy, I fear, and this serves only to worsen matters. I hope, for Anne's sake, that his feelings are genuine, but I do fear that she has been deceived by his good looks and fine manners. Oh, Mary! It is all my fault!" She hurried out the story of Anne's letters, of her concluding "George" to be someone altogether different form George _Wickham_.

"Darcy blames me, I know he does."

"No! Lizzy, I'm sure you are mistaken," Mary began, soothingly.

"He forbade me to go with him," Lizzy said, bitterly. "He might have argued it was for speed, as dear Colonel Fitzwilliam said, but you did not see the look of utter contempt he offered me before leaving. He despises me! He is sure that I conspired to permit Anne to flee to Scotland in a match that is both hurried and foolish, but, Mary! How could I have told him my suspicions for Anne's heart? I felt sure he knew it all already!"

"You did the best you could to be a friend to her, as you are a sister to me," Mary said, soothingly. She pulled her sister into a warm embrace, whispering comforts into Elizabeth's dark curls, and rubbed her back warmly. "Now do go home and get some rest, Lizzy dear. Surely Darcy will send word from the road, and you must be there to receive it."

Elizabeth nodded, and all of a sudden seemed so tired that Mary feared for her getting safely home. She summoned a servant and bid him to escort her, but Elizabeth refused adamantly assuring her sister that the walk would clear her head and do her good.

"Do not worry, Mary. I feel better just having spoken to you both. My mind will clear with some fresh air and then I shall decide what to do."


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth's words of reassurance had only been partly to placate her sister. They were also an attempt to placate herself, which attempt failed quite unreservedly. She had moved barely a dozen paces from Mary's front door before she was consumed once again with anxiety.

 _It is all my fault_ , she thought, her footsteps echoing accusations as she walked. Her fault that Anne had kept the relationship a secret, her fault that Darcy had been forced to hurry after them on a fool's errand. She had not forgotten the way his eyes had flashed with anger at their parting. Anger at the situation, at Wickham's deception and Anne's folly, yes, but anger, too, at her, for keeping his cousin's secret. _He blames me, as well he might!_ If it were possible, this truth hurt her even deeper than the knowledge that Anne might come to harm on account of Elizabeth's action, or inaction.

She had begun to feel something more than friendship, more than respect for Darcy - she loved him, and had begun to look to their future together with excitement, realising that despite their marriage being one of convenience, it was not without affection, indeed they both cared far more deeply for one another than either had professed upon their wedding day. It hurt Lizzy more to lose Darcy's love now that she had experienced it. How could they go back to being strangers now? They were worse than strangers - for he placed the blame for Anne's predicament on her shoulders. "As if I do not bear the shame of it myself just as keenly."

This last had been murmured aloud, and, not for the first time, she was grateful for the hustle and bustle of the London street that so thoroughly drowned out her voice. Biting down on her lip to avoid any further outbursts, she walked on with vigour, determined to reach home quickly, that she might more accurately plan her next course of action. She was so fixed on her destination that she scarcely paid any heed to those she passed, so that she almost collided bodily with a tall, gentlemanly figure, who could not scramble quickly out of her path.

"Oof!"

"Forgive me, Miss -" a familiar voice fell into a laugh. "Why, Mrs Darcy!"

Lizzy glanced up, shock and surprise clearing as she recognised the figure of Charles Bingley standing before her. Her throat dry, she made no immediate response, and her silence was remarked upon by Bingley's walking companion, when, with an icy smile, Caroline Bingley addressed her directly.

"Dear me, Eliza, is it so very shocking to come across two such friends as us on a busy street in London?" She glanced around. "Is your husband not with you? Dear me, you have not tired of one another already, I hope?"

"No," Elizabeth said, finding her voice at last. She met Caroline's unkind smile with a polite one of her own, but could not bring herself to engage in any sort of verbal tete a tete with Mr Bingley's sister, today of all days. "He has been called away rather suddenly, on-on business," she faltered, snatching her eyes away from Caroline's cruel features to Mr Bingley's altogether gentler face. His smile, more genuine than his sister's, fell, as he recognised the anxiety beneath Elizabeth's comment, and he gallantly offered her his arm.

"Well, then, in his absence, you must make do with me for escort. Where are we going?"

"We?" Caroline bleated. Mr Bingley made no reply, if indeed he had heard her at all. They began to retrace their steps, allowing Lizzy to lead the small party back towards her home.

"I hope Miss de Bourgh emerged safe and well," Mr Bingley remarked, with a jaunty grin, as they walked.

"Oh!"

Elizabeth's response had been instinctive, she was so surprised to hear Anne's name on her friend's lips that she was unable to check her reaction, and even Charles Bingley was not immune to deciphering it.

"Goodness, Miss Elizabeth - Mrs Darcy, I mean - she is - well, she is alright, is she not?" His usually smooth brow furrowed into an anxious frown. "When Darcy sent word after her yesterday we felt sure there was a simple misunderstanding, but -"

"There has not been an accident, I hope?" Caroline asked, over Elizabeth's shoulder. She looked as concerned as her brother, but Lizzy detected the tiniest hint of a smirk at her lips, that suggested if there was gossip to be had, she wished to know it, that she might share it wherever she happened to call next.

"She is quite well," Lizzy said, with a certainty she did not feel. "She has been - been called away."

"She travels with her cousin, perhaps," Mr Bingley remarked, cheerfully. "Well, we need not fret, if they are together, for no harm shall come to either -" He trailed off, noticing the effect his words were having on his companion. "Mrs Darcy, I cannot help but feel there is some news you are loathe to share, but that is of some great importance, if it makes you react so. Come, there is a bench here we may sit at a spell. I am Darcy's old friend, and a friend to your family too, I hope, so you must not consider there any need to remain stoical and silent. If there is a problem do, please, share it, and I shall do all I can to help."

Elizabeth forgot how bitterly she had vowed to despise Charles Bingley for his cavalier treatment of her sister. She forgot that his own sister was even part of the trio that took up residence on the bench that was, as he declared, but a few paces away. As soon as he let go of her arm, she sank her head into her hands.

"Oh, Mr Bingley! I only wish you could help me. Darcy has gone away to Scotland, to try and stop Anne making the most dreadful mistake. I cannot sit here and wait for news, and had planned to follow after them to be what assistance I could but Colonel Fitzwilliam is too unwell to travel, and now - "

She drew in a shaky breath.

"The thought of making such a journey alone -"

"Is unconscionable," Bingley said, with a decisive nod. "Impractical. Ridiculous." He looked over Elizabeth's shoulder to Caroline, exchanging some look that Lizzy could not decipher. "We shall accompany you."

"Charles!" Caroline hissed.

"Be quiet, Caroline. This is clearly an important matter, and it is not as if we have any more pressing concerns here in town." He dismissed her further objections with the vociferous clearing of his throat. "Mrs Darcy. I have a cousin who resides in the north, not quite Scotland, but near to the border. I had planned on visiting him before too long anyway, this merely hastens my plans thence. Perhaps you might travel that far at least as companion to my sister and I."

"Oh, Mr Bingley!" Elizabeth hurried out. "You are very kind, but I could not possibly ask such a favour of you."

"It is no favour!" Mr Bingley smiled, but Lizzy noticed it did not quite meet his pale eyes. "I wished to make the journey anyway. If doing so immediately and with haste will help not only you but Darcy and Miss de Bourgh then of course we shall leave as soon as possible."

Caroline wished for some excuse, Lizzy could tell, but was not quick enough to summon one. She drew in a long sigh.

"Of course, if we can be of any service to Miss de Bourgh, we will be only too happy to -"

"Then it is settled," Mr Bingley said sharply. "Let us all return to our homes quickly so that we might be ready to embark on the journey while there is still light enough to make some progress. What providence we passed you, Mrs Darcy, in order that such plans might be made so quickly. Come, Caroline, we must not delay."

Bidding her farewell, Charles and his sister hurried back towards their home, and Lizzy took a moment longer at her seat on the bench before continuing her own journey, for her home was not far away and she was suddenly aflutter with tasks to complete before their journey began.

 _I could not imagine Mr Bingley ever coming to my rescue, or ever thinking so highly of him as I do at this moment!_ she marvelled, immediately repenting of her irritation towards him. _Truly he is an angel from heaven to come so quickly to my aid._ Her thoughts clouded a little to think of what Darcy would say of his friend agreeing to hie to Scotland and bring his wife thence: still more what comment he would pass over her admitting Anne's folly to people outside their immediate familial circle.

"I cannot think on it at present," she whispered. "I will be able to explain it all better in person." Her heart leapt into her throat with her eagerness to see her husband, and to see Anne for herself, again. _Soon!_ she promised herself. _We will be together again soon!_


	4. Chapter 4

Even changing his horses as often as necessary, and taking scarcely any time for himself, Darcy's progress to Scotland was not as fast as he might have liked. He cursed every moment he was forced to delay, and succumbed only to a brief hour's sleep in an upright chair before continuing on with his journey, ignoring his usual caution regarding travelling at night. He did not flaunt his wealth, and heeded his own safety scarcely a bit, his concern was all for his cousin, and in preventing her making the mistake so narrowly averted with his own sister so recently in his memory.

Upon reaching the border, though, his quest was not over. No longer was he faced with arduous journeys by road or snatched moments of respite along the way. Now, his task required polite inquiry at every public building he passed.

"A young man and woman?" his question returned to him. "Travelling with haste? Planning to marry?" More than one gentleman had struggled to keep a grin from his features, replying that such a pairing was hardly uncommon in this particular part of Scotland, and would require rather more detail to ascertain _which_ of any number of couples he might be referring to. The women, at least, seemed to sympathise with Darcy's plight and it was one of these who at last proved to be his salvation.

"I think I might know the young lady of whom you speak," a matronly woman remarked, and Darcy felt the first glimmer of hope since leaving London. He bid her give him directions to the shabby cottage they were believed to have taken, and he committed the address to memory, thanking her heartily for her assistance and paying generously for the information.

He found the place soon enough; a small, winding street, shabby but not entirely improper. Darcy was surprised, until he remembered how fond George Wickham was of the finer things in life. With Anne he undoubtedly had access to rather more funds than Georgiana, at least immediately, and he would be still more eager to maintain the pretense of an affectionate first home. Darcy had all but abandoned the hope that he might prevent a foolish match from taking place: for he doubted greatly that George Wickham would wait a second time and see his plans foiled by Darcy's pursuit. Still, until he saw a ring on his cousin's finger, he had to believe there might still be a chance that the relationship could be dissolved and Anne returned home with nought but a few bruises to her pride and her pocketbook.

Locating the building the woman had mentioned, Darcy took a moment to steel himself on the doorstep, before rapping smartly on the door. It opened almost immediately, a waif of a girl who stared at him in surprise for half a moment before recalling herself to her duties and dropping in a clumsy curtsey.

"I wish to see George Wickham," Darcy said, bluntly. He was surprised, but not unduly so, to see his old foe had managed to secure the services of a housekeeper, or maid, for surely this girl was too young to be in charge of the household herself.

"Mr Wickham is not at home, sir," the mouse replied, scarcely daring to look up at him as she delivered the news. "But Mrs Wickham may be summoned, if tha' wish it?"

"Mrs Wickham?" Darcy's throat constricted. Then it was all over for Anne. He had arrived too late, and Wickham had secured Anne's hand just as Darcy had feared. _Foolish, easily led Anne!_ Yet even in his own mind, he could not bring the charge to stand. Easily led, she might have been, but Anne de Bourgh was no fool. She was innocent, trusting - the perfect mark for such a man as Wickham.

"Tell her that Mr Darcy, her cousin, wishes to take a moment of her time."

The maid hesitated a moment, clearly unsure whether she ought to invite this stranger across the threshold and into the house or not, before asking her mistress's permission. Darcy took pity on her, with no great desire to enter the house before he must.

"I will wait here while you ask her."

Ducking in a half-curtsey once more, the little housekeeper scurried away, and Darcy took a step away from the door, sucking in cold highland air and cursing the distance that had prevented him arriving any sooner.

A sound from the house drew his attention as the young maiden hurried back, smiling cautiously as she pulled the door wide and beckoned him inside.

"Do come in, Mr Darcy, sir. Missus is eager to see you and says you must come right in, right away, and make yourself at home."

Rolling his eyes skywards, Darcy stopped as he passed through the low doorway, and drew a slow breath. He would not chasten his cousin, nor criticise her. He had made a mistake of allowing his first interactions with Georgina to have been tainted by emotion, and she had taken his anger to be directed towards her, when in fact he reserved the full force of his ire for George Wickham. That he should be absent again, and leave Darcy to face the young woman at the centre of his scandal once more was not entirely surprising. But he did wish for Anne to see him as a friend, not believe him her critic. Momentarily an image of Elizabeth flashed through his mind and he wished, desperately, that she might be with him. She always knew so much better what to say, and how to address a subject, however difficult. She might broach this matter far easier than he. _Well, William, you wished to face this alone, so alone you must face it,_ he told himself, blinking his wife's visage away and reigning his feelings back under control.

"William!" Anne's greeting was warm, and she stood to welcome in. "What on earth are you doing here? Oh, but I am so very glad you are. Come! Come in and congratulate me, for I am married!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Then, gentlemen, it appears I am the winner!" Wickham crowed, as he watched his opponents unceremoniously surrender, hand after hand, and leave him to his spoils. He hid his relief in making a show of collecting and counting his winnings. His hand had not been good, but his ability to bluff far exceeded his fellows. He set his cards down, wondering if his companions would be made to feel better or worse had they known the true nature of his hand, and how fiendishly he had played them.

"Another hand, Wickham?" the gruff scots burr of the older man sitting next to him growled. "You'll give us a chance to win back our pride, at least?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid." Wickham's cheerful grin belied his disappointment at bidding his companions an early farewell. "You know what it's like for us newly married gentlemen…" he trailed off, but a suggestive chuckle from his friend suggested that he did not need any further detail.

"Gentleman?" one fellow snorted, and Wickham chose to let the insult slide. The man was sore about losing so much, so quickly. _A tragedy,_ Wickham thought, shrugging off more than one pair of eyes burning a hole in his shoulder as he stood and downed the remnants of his pint. He grimaced. The beer was weak and bitter, but it was cheaper than brandy, and far more freely available at this particular establishment. Wickham nodded farewell to his compatriots, and made for the door. These fellows were pleasant enough, but far lower down the social order than those Wickham aspired to call friends. _Soon_ , he promised himself, whistling cheerfully as he made his way home with pockets that bulged with winnings, feeling the evening had been a success in more ways than one. He'd managed to prick his ears for word of any newcomers to the town, and nobody remarked on any tall, fierce looking gentleman. He did not doubt Darcy would be after them sooner or later, but he intended on staying put until he did. They would make their way back to London and eventually, Wickham supposed, to Kent. His new wife had already dropped one or two hints at her desire to be reunited with her mother and tell her the news, but this was one interview Wickham did not relish the thought of. He wished to perfect his story before being faced with an angry, inconsolable Lady Catherine de Bourgh upon whom to practice it. Feeling the cold, he jammed his hands under his arms, teasing at a loose stitch there and grimaced. He would need a new wardrobe before facing such an ordeal. _Clothes make the man, after all._ Well, another night like that one and they'd have money enough to improve their situation a fraction. Their rooms were small, efficacious and inexpensive, but not exactly the sort of place the aspiring gentleman George Wickham wished to call home for any longer than was strictly necessary. He knew Anne had been disappointed, although she strove to hide it, instead marvelling at the quaintness of their abode, how cosy they would be butted up against one another within the four walls. They would move before the novelty wore off, for Wickham could not stand the thought of his new wife tiring of him just yet. She was still half in rapture at the romance of their disappearing off together into the night, and he certainly did not need a cold, brutal winter in poor dwellings to dissuade her of the notion.

As he turned into their street, his pace slowed. Something was different. Something in the air, some sound or scent that pricked at his conscience and warned him of impending doom. It was the same notion that had saved him from a beating more than once, prompting him to leave town before a certain scheme was discovered, or a certain fellow could come upon him and extract his vengeance. He tilted his head to one side, as if the altered perspective might offer the clue as to what caused his heartrate to increase. Continuing towards the house, he pushed the door open, his whistle dying on his lips as he discerned not just the two feminine voices he expected but a third, a deep masculine mutter he would recognise anywhere.

"George!" Anne called. "Husband, dear! Look who has arrived. My dear cousin has travelled the length of the country to see us, can you imagine my surprise?"

"I am quite sure it cannot be matched by your husband's," Darcy remarked, drily.

George ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it into place, and had arranged his features into a smile of welcome that would deceive his wife, if not his oldest friend, as he strode into the small room that passed for a parlour.

"William," he said, acknowledging how his use of Fitzwilliam Darcy's familial nickname enraptured his wife and irritated his friend. His smile widened. "And what brings you to our humble abode? Surely you did not come all this way simply to congratulate us?"

"Congratulations was not my primary goal, no," Darcy said, stiffly. "Although it appears they are in order." Smiling tightly at Anne, he turned a barely concealed scowl upon George. "Surely you have found a bride far better than any you might deserve, Mr Wickham." He cleared his throat. "That is, better than any gentleman might deserve. My cousin is quite the gentlest, kindest creature living, and I wish her every happiness in the future she has chosen." He reached out a hand to shake Wickham's and clenched it, tightly, forcing George to meet his gaze. "I trust you will do all you possess to ensure her safety and happiness from this day forward."

Swallowing a yelp of pain from the pressure of Darcy's hand around his, George nodded.

"You speak as if I had anything other than dear Anne's happiness in mind when I pledged to marry her."

Darcy's hand relaxed a fraction, and Wickham was pleased to see his comment had struck home. He knew, Wickham was certain, that their marriage had been for the convenience of George's pocketbook, at least in part. Yet it was narrow-mindedness on Darcy's part if he thought that Wickham's only concern. No, he had chosen the wife he wanted for himself, won her and secured her by his own wits, knowing that had he posed a suit as society dictated it would have been quashed at the first opportunity - by Darcy himself, no doubt.

Darcy smiled, then, a grim, humourless smile that cut through George's bravado and made his heart sink.

"You will not object to my staying here a few days, then, and ensuring the newlyweds are readily settled for their future together." It was not a question, and when George glanced over Darcy's shoulder towards his wife, he realised this very conversation had already been had in his absence.

"You'd be most welcome, William, but as you see…" Wickham gestured around them at the cramped interior of their small lodgings.

"It is no matter," Darcy said, his grim smile fading into a determined scowl. "I have already secured rooms at an inn in town. The Pale Horse. I do not doubt you already well acquainted with it, as you seem adept at finding your way to such places wherever you land."


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Mary,_

 _We have made good progress: pausing for breaks en route as Mr Bingley deems necessary to the continued health of both myself and his sister. I do not doubt, were he travelling alone as Darcy is, that he would make far swifter progress, yet whilst he is most attentive to our needs I trust he has not lost sight of the urgency of our flight. Still, he makes our progress of chief concern and I have every faith in his ability to ensure our arrival in Scotland as soon as is safely possible._

 _Here, we have stopped to rest overnight before going on in the morning. I retired early, claiming a headache, but the answer was only a partial truth. I wished to write, for you know I can so rarely make sense of my thoughts until I set them to paper, and I thought of none better to write to than you, my dear sister, who is already so well-versed in my concerns._

Lizzy paused, lifting her pen and chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. That in itself was not entirely truthful. Her first thought for a confidante had been Jane, but then the consideration of having to pour out the entire scandal to her sister seemed utterly overwhelming to Elizabeth and she had chosen the more expedient course by addressing her letter to Mary. Mary knew what had transpired between Anne and Mr Wickham and had known of Elizabeth's desperation to follow her husband to Scotland, although she felt sure her sister would be surprised to hear that she travelled in company with Mr and Miss Bingley. Her reason for writing, then, was two-fold, for she wished to reassure Mary, and by extension Colonel Fitzwilliam, that his inability to travel had not unduly hindered her plans. Dipping her pen in her ink, she continued with her letter.

" _I hope poor Colonel Fitzwilliam is faring better. You must assure him of my hopes for his full and swift recovery and assure him that he must not worry himself unduly with our concerns. I have complete faith in Mr Darcy's ability to resolve the situation satisfactorily and trust Anne enough that she will not have succumbed to too great a danger._

Lizzy frowned. Surely running to Scotland intent on marrying a man your family disapproved of could not be considered anything other than folly? Yet, if Anne truly loved him - and of the two who fled, Lizzy placed far less doubt on the depth of Anne's affections than those of Mr Wickham - then perhaps it was good that she acted in accordance with her heart, rather than her head? _Romantic nonsense!_ Lizzy cautioned herself. _It is notions like this that prevented you from intervening and stopping this whole mess from occurring in the first place. Foolish Lizzy!_

She leaned back from her desk, sliding the paper to one side. She had wanted to write to Mary, to pour out her jumble of thoughts on the page and find some hope there, but she found herself too restless to sit still long enough to write more than a few lines. She squinted out of the window, cursing the darkness that already enveloped the small posting inn. It was too dark to walk, and she was agitating for some exercise. Travelling was exhausting, but it did not produce the same kind of peaceful tiredness that a long walk might. Lizzy's mind raced on, bidding the horses to drive ever faster. She felt certain she would find no peace of mind until she saw Darcy again and could reassure herself that he no longer blamed her for Anne's predicament. And Anne! Dear, dear Anne. She would be alright, would not she? Lizzy bit tight on her lower lip, wondering how she would feel if it were not Darcy's relative but her own who had fled the country with a man she scarcely knew. Yet that was not entirely the situation as it stood, either, for Darcy did know Wickham, knew him well and judged him harshly. Surely that made it still worse? For Anne had not fled with anyone that they could believe a good person, a gentleman who had acted flightily and foolishly but could otherwise be redeemed. No, Wickham was a rake, with a mind for Anne's money and little care if her reputation and prospects were forever ruined.

 _Yet, if that were truly the case, why flee for Scotland? They might have set up home in London, surely?_ Anne was not young, as Georgiana had been, and the pair might have wed even without Darcy's direct approval: for he was not her brother and unable under law to prevent such a thing. They need not even marry! Why flee to Scotland if it was merely ruin and recompense that was behind George Wickham's scheme? Lizzy sighed, and turned towards bed. She might have manufactured the headache that allowed her to retire early but she was tired: mentally exhausted of running through scenarios as they travelled. Would Darcy be pleased to see her? Would he welcome her at all? And how were they even to find him? He might be anywhere. Suddenly the foolishness of her plan encroached upon her, and she blew out her candle, finding her way to the bed in the dark.

"We have come this far," she whispered aloud. "I will not allow us to be turned back by my own thinking. I can be of some assistance, I am sure. For Anne considered me a friend, she must consider me a friend still. And perhaps I can help her, can help Darcy convince her to act wisely, though it may cost her. And he…" she shivered, pulling her blankets up to her chin. She feared Darcy's action without herself there to steady his nerves. He would be angry – he had been angry. She had never seen the depths of rage that he barely concealed as he had read over Anne's hastily-written letter and seen the name of the gentleman she had fled with written there. He would not act too rashly, would he? Not call Wickham out in a duel, not get himself wounded?

Blinking back hot tears, Elizabeth stared up into the darkness and willed the morning to come. She would not be able to rest, nor set aside her worries until she saw him again. They would find some way forward together, and whatever happened there wold be some solution, she knew it. Dear Anne would rally again, and Wickham would be brought to bear for his cruel and scandalous behaviour. She just hoped that it would not cost Darcy too greatly to do so.

"I have already cost you much," she murmured, thinking back over the family rift that had begun with Darcy's choosing to marry her, in defiance of his aunt. "I could not bear to cost you any more because I chose to keep Anne's secret to myself instead of trusting you."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N - Thank you so much for all the reads and comments so far - I hope you are enjoying :)_

 _Just to let you know, this story is now available to purchase wherever you buy your ebooks (paperback coming soon) if you would rather have the final version e-reader ready!_

 _As for all my previous stories though, we've started so we'll finish :) One chapter a day or thereabouts (sometimes life gets in the way but I do aim for a daily post, or every couple of days at most)_

 _So with no further delay...here's part seven xx_

* * *

Darcy woke early, while it was still dark outside, and for one blessed moment, all was peaceful. It was with his second breath that the events of the previous few days rushed in upon him, and he groaned, rolling over and burying his head into the pillows, wishing for another moment or two of oblivion before being forced to confront the truth.

 _Anne and Wickham are married._ There would be no preventing the match, for it had already taken place. Wickham was now, legally, part of his family. He sat up. Yet Anne did not seem to lament the match as he had expected. Clearly, she still failed to see Wickham's true nature, and the thought of what a crushing blow such a disappointment would wreak upon her settled heavily over Darcy's shoulders. It was only a matter of time. His mind raced, seeing weeks, months, years stretch on before him. The news of her daughter's marriage would undoubtedly reach Lady Catherine's ears before long. Darcy could no longer deceive himself with the notion that he might be able to return Anne to Kent unscathed, and Lady Catherine might never have to know what fate her daughter had narrowly avoided. No, Wickham would be welcomed as her son, and he would, at last, receive his wealth through a dowry that made Georgiana's seem feeble by comparison. Another thought struck Darcy, and his lips turned downwards. _That is if Aunt Catherine does not turn Anne out altogether._ He recalled only too well how his aunt had reacted to news of his own planned nuptials falling outside of Lady Catherine's own plans for the future. How would she take the news that Anne had done the same, and yet made a match even less desirous than Darcy's had been?

His memory of his aunt's reaction to Elizabeth brought his wife to mind again, although she seemed scarcely to have been a moment from his thoughts since his arrival in Scotland. _I ought not to have left the way I did,_ he reasoned, feeling an ache of loneliness that he must face another dilemma of Wickham's making on his own. It would have been a great comfort and support to him to have Elizabeth by his side, and not many miles away in London. _She was more than willing to accompany me: why did I spurn her offer of help?_ He raked a hand through his dark hair. He had been so used to being master of his own concerns, and certainly never considered himself to have needed to seek another's counsel. Now, he longed for Elizabeth's words of encouragement, of comfort. She might not appreciate the grave error Anne had made in marrying such a man as Wickham, but she might offer some hope for the future that all was not yet lost.

"Well, she is not here. I must do battle alone," he told himself, speaking the words aloud as if they might offer him some reassurance. Nonetheless, he felt pressed to write to her, for surely Elizabeth would be as eager to hear of his progress as he was eager to vent his frustrations with someone who would understand them.

He fetched together writing implements, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders against the onslaught of the cold highland morning, and settled into a table and chair, the familiar act of dipping his pen and beginning his letter soothing his already jangled nerves.

 _My dearest Elizabeth_ , he began, remembering they had not parted on the best of terms and suddenly eager to undo his harsh assessment of his wife. He had too readily laid the blame for this turn of events at her feet when she had not deserved his anger. If she kept Anne's habits a secret from him it was not done out of malice, for surely Elizabeth could not imagine that _Wickham_ was the recipient of Anne's affections. He had cause to remind himself that Wickham, whilst not well known to Elizabeth, had certainly crossed her path. She must have noticed, even in their brief acquaintance, how readily he sought to manipulate those young women around him, and how successful he could be in such endeavours.

 _I hope you are well and write to inform you of my progress north._ He paused, wrangling his thoughts into coherence before continuing. _I reached Scotland as quickly as I could, though not quickly enough. All we feared has taken place: our dear cousin Anne is wed to Mr Wickham, so all I may have attempted to free her from his thrall and return her to us will come to nought. They are married, and we must make the best of it. I have pledged to stay here some time and ensure for myself that he is treating her well: I know not what their plans are for the future, but presume Wickham will wish to return to London or Kent before too much time elapses. Lady Catherine must be told, and I fear that she will not take the news well. If I can persuade the couple to journey presently to Kent I will accompany them, and perhaps in some way lessen the blow to my aunt by my presence there. I hope that you might consider coming too, to Kent, for, Elizabeth, dear, I feel better able to stand such a trial with you by my side. I have kept much of Wickham_ _'s former misdeeds to myself and am glad that neither Anne nor my aunt is privy to them. Not for his sake, you understand, but for theirs. It would serve nobody well, now, to air Anne's husband's past indiscretions aloud. I can only hope that her goodness will work to change Wickham, for he was not always the scoundrel he became as a man. We were once friends, and whilst I do not think us able to be so again, we are now cousins, and must at least act in one another's interest if familial harmony is ever to be restored…_

A few lines more and his letter was ended, signed with a flourish, and sealed. He felt better for having written. Whilst he would rather have had Elizabeth by his side and able to discuss in person the practicalities of Anne's marriage, writing had aided some in restoring peace to his troubled mind. The first rays of wintry sun began to lighten through his window, and he stood, determined to embark on an early start to the day. There was much to discuss and arrange with Wickham, and as he wished the task already accomplished, he might as well start on it as early as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

" _I hope poor Colonel Fitzwilliam is faring better. You must assure him of my hopes for his swift and total recovery and assure him that he must not worry himself unduly with our concerns…_

Richard snorted, from his seat in the corner, and Mary automatically laid a hand on his arm, bidding him still. She had read Elizabeth's letter aloud, that both might hear the news from the north, but judging from her husband's agitation, wondered if she might not have been better keeping her sister's intelligence to herself.

"Tis not undue worry," he grumbled, but did not strive to haul himself to his feet. "I ought to be there too. Darcy will never forgive me for letting Elizabeth go alone."

"Once my sister has set her mind to something, she is not easily persuaded from it," Mary said, scanning the letter once more for something more positive she might share to ease Richard's self-reproach. "And see, she does not go alone. Mr Bingley is travelling with her."

Richard snorted once more, encompassing all his thoughts on Mr Bingley's suitability for an escort in one derisive sniff. Mary hid the smile that crept onto her features and passed the letter over.

"I know she could hardly wish for a better escort than _you_ , but being that you are not well enough to travel, at least we can trust in Mr Bingley's abilities to see her as far as Scotland."

"I suppose for that we must be grateful," Richard muttered. He scanned the note with his own eyes, narrowing them briefly, before permitting a laugh. "But here, he brings his sister along too. I pity Elizabeth if she must travel with Miss Bingley, as well as her brother. He, I concede, would at least make the journey a relatively cheerful affair. The same can hardly be said for his sister."

"No," Mary allowed, pleased to see Richard's spirits lifted at the humour of Elizabeth's predicament, which momentarily overshadowed their shared anxieties at the reason for her sister's journey. "I imagine she is eager for gossip, though, and as such is not too dismayed to witness it first-hand, even if it means travelling swiftly to Scotland in such a manner.

"Yes." Richard's smile slipped, and a frown that had surely been learnt from his cousin settled over his firm brow. "We must find some manner of silencing her. Bingley's discretion need not be fretted over: he speaks freely and frequently but is canny at least to know when a subject is to be avoided. His sister, I fear, rather rejoices in such subjects, especially if they might be seen to somehow elevate her own position."

Mary sucked in a breath.

"You do not think she would rejoice in such news as this? To see a friend brought low -"

"They are not friends," Richard said, shaking his head. "Oh, I rather think Miss Caroline Bingley had pretensions to the close personal connection she might share with Miss Anne de Bourgh, perhaps she even envisaged the lady being successfully matched with Charles, thus elevating her new sister into enviable social circles. Now that that dream has died, I rather think Caroline Bingley will milk the situation for whatever profit she might glean from it, even if that is only scandalous conversation at the dining room." He sighed. "We must be grateful my aunt remains in Kent, for it buys us some time at least. If Anne can be got home, and Wickham paid off somehow -" he winced, imagining the figure George Wickham might seek to extract from Darcy for his silence. "If it can be done, and done quickly, then Anne's reputation might remain untarnished, and my aunt forever ignorant of the scandal." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I pray Darcy might succeed, that time will smile on him, as it did before."

Mary reached for her husband's hand, and squeezed it gently, the motion prompting him to look at her with a warm smile.

"I know I am a bear to you, my dear. Forgive me. It is a frustration to be bound to stay at home when one would much prefer to be of some _use_." He shook his head, fiercely. "If only my damned lungs would co-operate -"

"Then you would flee to the north, as well, embarking on who knows what kind of scrape, and leave me utterly alone." Mary tutted. "A fine gift to your wife for Christmas."

With a laugh, Richard lifted their linked fingers to his lips, dropping a penitent kiss on the back of Mary's hand.

"You are right. Instead, I grace you with a bad-tempered, unwell shell of a husband. And in borrowed lodgings to boot! How fortunate you are to have made such a match."

Mary stood, snatching her hand back with a serene smile.

"I see now you are lapsing into self-pity and will point you once more to what Fordyce has to say on such behaviour. You are almost well - in fact, quite well enough to accompany me on a turn about Hyde Park…" her eyes narrowed as she shot her husband a sly smile. "That is if you can possibly raise yourself from the depths of despair you are otherwise so eager to wallow in."

The words were a panacea and instantly Colonel Fitzwilliam was on his feet, throwing aside both the letter and the effect of ill-health.

"We must leave immediately, wife, for I am inexpressibly tired of being cooped up. I wager some fresh air is all that is needed to blow these wretched cobwebs from my head: and if it may be had with such a perfect angel by my side, rather than on horseback racing my cousin northwards, so much the better."

Mary smiled, pleased to see her husband so cheered, and still gladder that his health was so improved. Indeed, he was not healthy enough to go haring off to Scotland, but he was more himself than he'd been in days, and her natural worries for his well-being were a little eased. They were still newlyweds, and though Richard had told her some of his exploits in the regiment, and alluded to some ill-health and injury obtained in battle, he had been scant in detail, and she worried, on those occasions she lay awake in the depths of night, that despite his hale and hearty appearance all might not be entirely well for the Colonel. Seeing her tall husband animated with the happy task of preparing for a walk, rather than irritable and anxious over the fate of his cousin, put her mind at rest, and she hurried upstairs to retrieve her bonnet: a gift from the gentleman himself, who had yet to see it adorn his pretty wife's head. She permitted herself one moment to glance in the glass and admire its effect herself, before returning to her receive the compliment she knew would be on his lips at first glance, but as she descended the stairs there was a knock at the door. A small flurry of activity, and before Mary could enquire of their staff as to the latest arrival, she heard the unmistakable voice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Her heart sank, along with her smile, as Richard's aunt bustled into the house.

"Richard! At least tell me that _you_ are at home. I came to London expecting everyone in their proper places and yet everywhere seems abandoned. Pray, where has my wayward daughter got to?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Won't you take tea with us, Aunt Catherine?"

Richard stood to greet his aunt, before encouraging her to take a seat near the fire, where she might be warm, and easily able to converse with both he and Mary.

"You look dreadfully pale, Richard. I do hope you are not sickening for something." Lady Catherine's words were not offered without sympathy, but Mary detected a trace of self-interest in the older woman's hesitation to draw closer to greet her nephew.

"Nothing but my old war wounds acting up," Richard said, with a droll smile.

"And he is very much better now, after taking some much-needed rest," Mary put in, stepping forward to greet the older lady.

"Very well," Lady Catherine said, surveying the pair with caution. "And where is your brother? I had hoped I might see dear Philip once more."

Richard flinched almost imperceptibly at the mention of his brother, and Mary laid a gentle hand on his arm, which seemed instantly to settle his mood and temper his reaction. His voice was light, his smile easy when he explained Philip and Louisa's absence.

"They are visiting friends at present, Aunt," he said. "Although I am sure they will be disappointed to miss you."

"Anne is with them, I expect?"

Neither Mary nor Richard answered straight away, exchanging a look of mild panic that Lady Catherine mercifully misunderstood.

"I know she has several acquaintances in town, so I could hardly expect her to sit at home waiting out the festive season with her cousins." She lifted her watery eyes from Richard to Mary and back again. "No offence intended towards you, of course. How do you like London, Mary?"

"Very well." Mary slid her chair a little closer to Lady Catherine, seeking desperately for a subject that might interest the older lady and serve a worthy distraction from the mention of Anne de Bourgh. She was ignorant at present of Anne's true location, and Mary strove to keep her so. It was not in her nature to deceive, but it was also not in her nature to seek out conflict: and having witnessed Lady Catherine de Bourgh's piques of temper when anything she did not personally approve of took place, she thought it wise to delay informing her of her daughter's activities. _In any case, it may yet be undone_ _…_ It was a fleeting hope, but Mary clung to it, her eyes scanning the room for some glimmer of inspiration. Her gaze lit on the piano, and she seized upon music as a most opportune topic of conversation, remembering how fondly Lady Catherine had spoken of her delight in music during Mary's stay at Rosings.

"We have very much been enjoying the music, have not we, Richard?"

"Very much," he agreed. "That is, I have enjoyed some very jolly tunes. I am sure your own enjoyment has been rather more deep and affecting than my own. Perhaps, Mary, dear, you might play a little for Aunt Catherine? She is so recently arrived I have no doubt she would appreciate the chance of a rest, and you play so well the new pieces we have been introduced to. You would like to hear them, I am sure, Aunt?"

Although Richard's voice lifted at the end, suggesting a question, he was already ushering Mary to her feet, leaving little opportunity for Lady Catherine to do anything other than acquiesce to the suggestion and agree that yes, she would dearly love to hear Mary play again.

"Rosings is so quiet, now that you have all departed…" she mused, as Mary settled herself at the piano. She bit her lip, wishing she possessed the courage of her sister, to inform the lady that, had she been more welcoming to the young people while they were at Kent, they might not have been in such a hurry to depart. _But I am not Elizabeth,_ Mary reasoned and placed her hands on the keys, playing the first few bars a little hesitantly, but gaining in confidence as the newly-learned piece flew from her fingertips. It was a lively jig of a piece, and she was pleased to see Lady Catherine's eyes dancing along to the tune, her lips stilled at last as she appreciated the music.

"Bravo!" Richard applauded with vigour as she reached the conclusion of the piece, and before either lady could speak, demanded another, mentioning a particular performance he had enjoyed and imploring Mary to play the piece for his aunt's hearing, for she would do it far greater justice than he in recalling it. Mary's lips quirked, recalling that Richard's previously professed opinion of this particular piece of music had in fact been rather less than complimentary upon his first hearing it. Sensing that he sought only to occupy his aunt with thoughts of anything that was not Anne, or, for that matter, Mr Darcy or Elizabeth, she happily played on, lengthening the piece as much as she dared, and only winding it to its end when she saw Lady Catherine stifle a yawn.

"Dear me, where can my daughter have got to?" she asked, casting a cross glance towards the clock on the mantel.

Richard and Mary exchanged a glance, and Mary's heart sank as she saw her husband's features settle into unhappy acceptance of the task at hand. It would fall to him, then, to inform Lady Catherine of the news they had hoped to keep quiet.

"You need not tarry, so, Richard, or seek to spare my feelings."

Their exchange of glances had not gone unnoticed by Lady Catherine, but it was not until she spoke that Mary recognised the resignation and hint of regret in the older lady's voice.

"She is spending time with Fitzwilliam, I expect, and _that woman._ " Her eyes flew, almost unconsciously, to Mary, and she had the grace to look a little chastened to speak so cruelly of Mary's sister before her face. "They are happy, then?"

"They are." Mary lifted her chin, determined she would not be cowed by the lady before her, and striving to project some measure of the confidence that Elizabeth seemed to so easily inhabit. "Very much so."

There was a snort, and Lady Catherine turned to Richard with an imperious toss of her head.

"I am sure you make a fine set, roving all over town."

"Roving? Aunt, I understand your disappointment -"

"No, Richard, I do not believe you do understand my disappointment." Lady Catherine let out an expansive sigh. "Still, I am sure I have learnt to live with disappointment, in my long years. I will learn to live with this too. If Anne is quick to forgive Fitzwilliam's betrayal, I must seek to do the same." She sniffed. "You will send a note, Richard, and invite Mr and Mrs Darcy to accompany you and Mary to my house for dinner in a few days. I will not seek to disturb Anne's plans before then: but perhaps you will inform her of my arrival in town, and suggest that she may prefer to enjoy the comforts of her own home, rather than imposing any longer upon her cousins."

With that, she turned her attention purely to the wider London society Richard and Mary had been keeping and questioned them relentlessly on gossip concerning their shared connections, which Richard answered as fully as he dared, although not enough to satisfy Lady Catherine's inquisitive nature. Mary's eyes caught her husbands' and they shared a look of pure relief. They had somehow evaded Lady Catherine discovering the truth, for now. Mary's heart pounded. Yet a few short days were all the respite she had offered them. How would they explain not only Anne's absence but also Mr and Mrs Darcy's, so soon?


	10. Chapter 10

"Now, ladies, if you will settle yourself here for a moment, we can have something to eat and I will make enquiries…"

Once Charles Bingley had assured himself of his companions' relative comfort, sitting around a table in a quiet corner of an inn they had stopped at for an hour's rest and refreshment, he hurried off to find the landlord and begin his usual round of enquiries. Lizzy let out a sigh of relief. She was not sure she had ever been more grateful for Mr Bingley's presence, for his tireless efforts in ensuring their flight to Scotland, whilst perhaps not as comfortable as if they had been travelling at their leisure, was not at all as arduous as it might have been.

 _I was foolish to ever consider making such a journey alone!_ she thought, watching the friendly interaction between the two gentlemen. She would never have made it north of Hertfordshire, surely, had she not Mr Bingley's calm figure beside her. He continually kept their conversations light and sought to point out areas of interest as they travelled northwards. Lizzy felt a little chastened for all the cruel thoughts she had ever had about Mr Darcy's close friend, for the gentleman was kind, far kinder than she had any right to expect him to be, and educated and interesting in addition. She could easily see why Jane cared for him so, and she wagered his own feelings were not as vanished as she had previously thought. The key figure in separating the pair, then, was not Mr Bingley himself, but his sister.

That lady, sitting in a chair not three feet from Lizzy at that moment, sighed extravagantly and massaged her head.

"Are you unwell, Miss Bingley?" Lizzy asked, out of obligation rather than real interest, and already half aware of the response her question was likely to elicit.

"How anyone can be well, haring about the countryside as we are at present is beyond me!" Caroline said, crossly. "My head aches so, and it seems to me that the world still races by around us, though we are still just now." She shuddered. "I long to stop and sit still for more than an hour altogether, and not be forced to dwell in cramped quarters!" her voice lowered. "Why my brother conceded to such a scheme is far beyond my understanding. We might have been enjoying London, still, instead of -"

Mr Bingley reappeared, and his presence was enough to silence his sister's complaints, for which Lizzy was grateful. Ordinarily, Caroline's self-serving litany of woes would have done little but irritate Elizabeth, but there was some grain of truth to them that even she could not deny. Both Mr and Miss Bingley were here purely to aid Elizabeth, at a great personal cost to themselves in terms of time and comfort. Even Caroline deserved gratitude for accompanying her, although Lizzy privately suspected that, were she and Mr Bingley permitted to make the journey without her, it might be undertaken with more haste than Caroline's frequent pauses permitted.

"Good news!" Mr Bingley said, his eyebrows waggling with comic effect. "Our landlord believes he has seen and even spoken to Mr Darcy as he passed through this way."

"Truly?" Tears pricked at the corners of Elizabeth's eyes. It had been the first piece of good news they had had in their interminable journey. More than one night, she had lain awake wondering if she was dragging her friends on a wild goose chase. Oh, they would reach Scotland safely and swiftly, she did not doubt Mr Bingley on that. But how would they find Darcy once they got there? Scotland was not a small country, Lizzy feared, and their quarry might be in any part of it. It was supposition only that, once Wickham had crossed the border, he would not continue to travel north. Even so, it would be like struggling to find a needle in a haystack. Her relief was contagious, and she saw her tentative smile reflected in Mr Bingley's jolly face.

"Very truly! He did not recall it at first when I merely referred to _my friend, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy_. It was not until I employed my formidable ability of description that the recollection dawned." He chuckled. "Mention of the gentleman's _dark brow_ and _fierce scowl_ , as well as the fact that he would be seeking information on a young woman who, we suspected, had likewise travelled north soon jogged the man's memory, and he told me any number of useful details."

"Such as?" Lizzy clamoured to know more. Was Darcy well? Were his hopes of finding his cousin undaunted, or had he succumbed to the hopelessness she herself had felt more than once on their journey?

"Mere details of the journey," Bingley waved off her concern, then, seeing her features fall, hurried to supply some detail, in order to reassure his travelling companion. "He was able to offer him some word of Wickham, too, which was met with gratitude. It seems they are not far from here, perhaps another hour or two's journey. A small town, by the name of Broughton." He cleared his throat. "The fellow could not say for sure they were settled there, of course, but assured me that this was the self-same intelligence he had offered to Darcy, who had intimated his intention to call next at the place and see if he might trace his friends there."

At this news, Lizzy's feet began to tap with nervous excitement underneath the table. Darcy was just another hour or two's distance! Why, then, must they tarry here? They might press on, and be reunited all the sooner. She was about to open her mouth to make such a suggestion, when Caroline sighed once more, loudly, and Lizzy's excitement hardened into annoyance.

"Must we still travel on? We have come such a long way already." She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, and Elizabeth and Mr Bingley exchanged glances.

"I did suggest you might prefer to leave us in the Cotswolds, Caro, dear. It is not like you do not have friends thereabouts. We might even have detoured to Lattimer Place and dropped you with the Hursts, yet you insisted on accompanying us."

Lizzy focused her eyes on the table in front of her, feeling a little awkward at the recollection of the discussion that had become an argument between brother and sister over this very matter. Caroline had been complaining, almost without cease, since their leaving London, and yet when Mr Bingley made the very sensible suggestion that she leave them at several points - naming friends and family with estates nearby that she might be quite comfortable for a few days, while he saw Elizabeth to Scotland, did anything that was needed of him by Darcy and returned to collect her - she was outraged, accusing them of casting her off.

"I wanted to be of some assistance!" Caroline insisted. "Dear Eliza is as much my friend as yours!"

This was such a blatant untruth that Lizzy stifled the urge to laugh, disguising it unsuccessfully in clearing her throat. Mr Bingley glanced at her, desperately, and she realised that of the two of them she might be better equipped, in this instance, at smoothing his sister's ruffled feathers. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.

"I am so very grateful to you, Miss Bingley." She lifted her eyes to Mr Bingley's. "To both of you. I know that it has been a great upheaval for you to travel so far and so quickly at my behest, and I cannot begin to thank you." Swallowing her desire for progress, she continued. "I think perhaps we might rest here for a short while and take a meal, before continuing on. At least we have some indication of Mr Darcy's whereabouts, or a suggestion of where he travelled to next, at least. We might delay our progress for an hour or so and allow Miss Bingley some respite." Turning to her, she forced a gentle smile. "I am so sorry to hear about your headache, Miss Bingley. Jane is likewise often afflicted by such a malady. Might I suggest a warming cup of tea and some food, for surely that, and some stillness, might have the desired effect?"

Lizzy had mentioned Jane quite naturally, despite contriving to keep her sister's name off her lips for the majority of their journey. She had intended the comment purely for Caroline Bingley's ears, yet her brother heard it, his features folding in on themselves.

"I hope Miss Bennet's ill-health was not the reason behind her departing London so soon after arriving," he said, in a low voice. Lizzy turned to look at him and saw such concern etched on his face that she felt the first flare of hope she had in some time.

 _Once I have seen Darcy again, once this terrible circumstance with Anne is resolved, I shall set my mind to reunited you both,_ she promised him silently. Just a short time ago she had been willing her sister to meet another, and spurn the man who had so callously thrown her aside. How quickly matters changed! Mr Bingley loved Jane still and would marry her, if Lizzy had a single word to say about it. Her lips pulled into the slightest of smiles. Caroline Bingley may have contrived to separate them, but she would not succeed in keeping them apart. She had contrived to learn of gossip and had been rewarded with an uncomfortable and difficult journey north. When the tea service arrived, Lizzy took a rejuvenating sip of her own and angled her chair away from Caroline and towards her brother, wishing to hear again every word the landlord had offered of Darcy's manner.

 _Just an hour or two more, and we will be together,_ she promised herself. _I only hope we will not be unwelcome_ _…_


	11. Chapter 11

Darcy still had not heard from his wife. Even with the distance, the letter had to travel, he longed for a reply. Receiving none, he felt still more alone and wondered if Elizabeth, now, punished him for his angry dismissal upon their parting. Their friendship, their marriage, was still so new that he feared such a separation could not serve them well and cursed his fierce temper yet again for their leaving on anything other than good terms. He had attempted to smooth it over at the time, but it had been a poor effort, for he was not adept in speaking of his true feelings, as his wife was. _If only she were here!_

And then, it was as if his thoughts had conjured her before him, for he saw some sprite of her bearing and colouring not a hundred feet yonder, walking beside a man who strode along with purpose, pausing only to question people as they passed. He blinked. Another lady trailed behind, tall, like the gentleman, but dark-haired like his own Elizabeth. He blinked again. It _was_ his own Elizabeth, with Charles Bingley and Caroline, the latter being all proof he needed that this was not a dream but reality. His lonely mind would never have conjured up a spectral Caroline Bingley, though it may have taunted him with images of his wife.

"Bingley!" he called, striding towards the small party at a pace. "Elizabeth - it cannot be -"

"Darcy!" Charles' relief was tangible, even before he grasped his friend's hand and squeezed it warmly. He retreated almost as quickly, allowing Darcy to greet his wife, which he did, dropping an affectionate, if confused, kiss on her cheek.

"What are you doing here?"

"Do you mind it?" Elizabeth was shy, suddenly looking away as if she feared to meet his gaze. Darcy contrived to catch her eyes with his own.

"Mind it? I can hardly believe it to be true." He reached a hand to hers, threading their fingers together covertly, grateful to assure himself of her physical presence. He repeated his exclamation in a lower tone. "What are you doing here?"

"A fine question," Caroline Bingley offered, her voice sharp and her feelings undoubtedly hurt at being thus far overlooked by the gentleman they came to see.

"Miss Bingley." Darcy released Elizabeth's hand and turned to bow a formal greeting to her friend. "I am grateful to you in accompanying my wife so far north. Truly, I am indebted to both you and your brother. Come, you must be weary from travelling. Let us take some refreshments, and you must tell me all of your journeys, and what contrived to bring you here."

"You may well ask!" Bingley laughed, as he offered his arm to his sister, and Elizabeth's hand nestled familiarly into the crook of Darcy's elbow. "And the answer walks alongside you. Elizabeth was perturbed, for, wanting to be by your side as any bride might in times of trial, she found herself without an escort, and it was the least I - we -" he cast a deferential glance towards his sister. "The least _we_ could do to oblige."

They reached the inn and Darcy secured them a table in a quiet corner where they might speak freely without fear of being overheard. Thus seated, he turned once more to Elizabeth.

"You came all this way."

"I could hardly sit still and wait for news," Elizabeth said, fidgeting in her seat as if to underline her point. "Tell me, have you found them?"

Darcy glanced surreptitiously towards Charles, who feigned ignorance, and Caroline, who was only too eager to hear his response. His friend, sensing Darcy's discomfort, muttered some suggestion to Caroline that they enquire about some refreshments, and Darcy addressed Elizabeth directly.

"Perhaps we might take another turn about the square, Mrs Darcy, and allow brother and sister some respite from their travels, for surely they have earned the right to a rest!"

Bingley smiled, and accepted, suggesting that they would order food upon the Darcys return, and enjoy a few moments' peace until that time. Caroline was eager to accompany them, Darcy noted, but that her exhaustion was not merely feigned, but genuine, and she could barely summon the energy to suggest moving from her seat.

He and Elizabeth escaped the inn for the quiet town square, and he turned to speak to her, but before he could open his mouth she began.

"I am sorry for coming with such company," Lizzy said quickly. He saw then that her agitation was only in part due to her anxiety for Anne. _She fears my reaction!_ he realised, and reached a hand out quickly, laying it warmly over hers as if such a motion might set at rest her worry. "I know you will be angry with me for speaking of Anne's misfortune, and I promise I did not do it lightly, nor - nor in any detail." She chewed nervously on her lower lip. "Mr Bingley stumbled upon me quite by chance, and I was so disheartened after speaking with Colonel Fitzwilliam -"

"You spoke with Richard?"

Elizabeth nodded. "He was my first appointment: I felt sure he would be eager to follow you north and certain I could persuade him to allow me to accompany him." She smiled, wryly. "In fact, I am quite sure he would have beaten us here, had Mary not insisted upon his staying at home and resting. I assured them that I would not dream of forcing him to travel when he was unwell and was just turning over my own desperate options - I was close to taking a carriage alone, though I know such an admission will shock you." She shook her head ruefully. "Mr Bingley saved me from such a spectacle, insisting that he had business to see to in the north, an assertion I now know, if I did not at the time, was merely a ruse to permit him to be of some assistance to us." Her voice dropped. "Are you very angry?"

"Angry?" Darcy smiled. "At you? At Bingley, who is one of my best and oldest friends - and who would, I am sure, be here in my stead if he were needed." He shook his head fiercely. "I am not angry: or if I am, it is entirely directed at myself. I was wrong to come alone, for as I would have realised, had I spared a moment to consider it, time was already against me. Even had I ridden with the wind I was already too late." He hung his head, delivering the news as a hammer-blow, and unable to look at his wife as he did so. "They are married."

Elizabeth's sharp intake of breath was the only evidence that she had heard and understood his words. They were silent a moment.

"Then…what is there to be done?"

"Little, although there is one option still open to me," Darcy remarked, drily. "I have hesitated to act upon it yet, although the thought has tormented me since hearing of Anne's flight…"


	12. Chapter 12

"You cannot mean to challenge Wickham to a duel?" Elizabeth cried, her hands flying to her lips in fear.

"Certainly I can, certainly I do." Darcy's voice was little more than a growl. "I ought to have done so long ago when he trifled with Georgiana." Pain flashed across his face. "Then, my desire was for secrecy, and calling a man out would make the matter more public than I cared to." He set his jaw. "With Anne, there is no chance of secrecy. Indeed, he flaunts his behaviour, as if he were proud of it. He does it to mock me, I am sure. That Anne should be collateral in that man's schemes is - is -"

Elizabeth laid a hand gently over her husband's, and he took strength from the gesture, swallowing the rest of his sentence and dismissing any further conversation with the slight shake of his head. Nonetheless, Elizabeth persevered.

"Do you truly think fighting Wickham will resolve anything?" she asked, gently. "If he truly is goading you, he must want to witness some reaction: most likely the reaction you are giving him in becoming so enraged as to call him out in the first place. Surely, William, if he knows you as well as he claims to, he knows how you are likely to react in any such situation. Why give him the pleasure of doing as he desires, in this instance?"

Lizzy was watching him carefully and could see that her words struck home. Darcy's rigid stance softened, slightly. The frown receded a fraction.

"I cannot do nothing -" he began.

"I certainly do not suggest doing nothing!" Elizabeth said, punctuating her words with a slight laugh. "In fact, the thing I suggest will be rather more difficult than pistols at twenty paces." Her lips turned down at one corner, as she perceived her husband's likely reaction to her suggestion. "I merely suggest you might - _we_ might - _talk_ to Mr Wickham."

"Talk?" Darcy scoffed. "Ah yes, the skill I so ably possess." He smiled, wryly, and Elizabeth was encouraged to see the faintest glimmer of humour in her husband's countenance. "If Wickham understands me as well as you presume he does then he will know I am not one for words. He could charm a snake out of its skin: I am no match for him where dialogue is concerned."

"Ah, but Husband, you forget. All is not as it was." Her eyes flashed with determination. "When we married we became one person, under the law." She raised an eyebrow. "And Mr Wickham is altogether less acquainted with my ability to speak well. You shall see, William, if I am not able to manage him somehow."

Darcy was poised to interrupt, to suggest a return to his first plan of action, and Elizabeth spoke to reassure him.

"But, if you decide our conversation is nought but a distraction, a mode of entertainment for Mr Wickham at our expense, then I give you full and certain licence to do as you see fit." She smiled, weakly. "Only promise me that you are a far better shot than he, William. For just having got you back, I could not bear to lose you again." She was teasing, but there was a serious undercurrent to her words. She had read of duels in books; had heard rumours of such behaviour from her time in London. She had ever dreamed she would be discussing one so matter-of-factly with the man she had come to love almost as if he were her own flesh. She could not think of Darcy harmed: she would not. Setting her lips in a line, she decided that no matter what verbal thrust-and-parry Wickham endeavoured to use against them she would meet, and win. They must determine the truth of his intentions towards Anne. If the pair were truly married, there was little could be done to change that, but if Wickham himself could be reasoned with, all may yet not be lost. Lizzy remembered the version of Wickham she had met at Longbourn and determined to find whether any trace of that man still lingered in the figure of Anne de Bourgh's new husband. Surely it had not all been a lie? Wickham was charming, yes, but could any man be so wedded to deceit that he might conceal his true self entirely?

Almost unconsciously, she slid her hand through the crook of Darcy's elbow, snuggling into his side.

"Now, might we spare the time for a short walk before seeing to further refreshments? We have both of us travelled long to reach here, and it has been so long since we were together - truly ourselves." She risked a glance at Darcy's face and saw her hopeful smile reflected in his. Whatever rapport she had feared lost forever was not gone, merely shadowed by Darcy's shock and disappointment at his cousin's fate. He did not blame Elizabeth, no more than she blamed herself. She saw, now, that his anger was not directed at her, but at himself, for allowing Wickham free reign to harm yet another young woman.

"It is not your fault, you know," she whispered, meeting his gaze with her own. "This thing between Anne and Wickham…you could not have known. How could any of us have guessed their even being known to one another? Let alone that he had convinced her to elope? It is the sort of thing one reads about in books: not the sort of thing that happens in one's own family. The coincidence -"

"It was no coincidence," Darcy said, flatly. "Wickham knew of my family connections. The name of de Bourgh is not so very common, and Anne said herself that Wickham had rejoiced in their connection through his "dear old friend Darcy". No, her trouble now is at least partly my doing. I ought to have put a stop to Wickham's mischief earlier, rather than trusting him to ever truly change." He scowled. "I do not think it possible for such a vile - " he stopped, shooting his wife a quick, tight smile. "But let us dwell no longer on my thoughts of George Wickham, for they will not serve either of us well and end only in annoyance for us both." He patted Lizzy's hand warmly and began to walk towards the door. "In truth, I regret leaving you behind, regardless of what I said in London." He bit his lip, a momentary picture of penitence so real that Lizzy felt their reunion needed little in the way of words. They had both acted out of anxiety for Anne, there would be no need to apportion blame between them. "Tell me, have you been often in Scotland?"

"Never." Lizzy laughed.

"Well, let me show you a tiny sliver of it." Darcy smiled, wanly. "It is not an ideal circumstance for a visit north of the border, yet what in life is truly ideal? That you are here, that we are here, together, is a blessing I do not intend to ignore."


	13. Chapter 13

"Come, Darcy, you need not be stoic with me. Now that the ladies are settled in their rooms - rooms far pleasanter than I expected from a countryside inn, I might add - let us speak truthfully. Have you seen Anne? How does she fare?"

"Not here." Darcy glanced over his shoulder, noting the practised disinterest of a fellow patron of the inn's dining facilities. On his arrival in the small border town, Darcy had been so eager to seek information of Anne and Wickham's whereabouts that he had not been particularly concerned who he spoke to of the matter, but now that he knew all, he preferred to keep his thoughts to himself, to ensure his cousin's fate did not become idle gossip and, lately, to ensure his own words were not fed back to Wickham himself over the card table. "How are you rested, yourself, Charles? Might we walk?"

Bingley insisted he was eager for some exercise, having spent much of the past days cooped up in a carriage, or on the box next to a driver, with his long legs folded beneath him, and the two men began at a pace that had them at the edge of the small town in minutes, soon surrounded by hills and with the purple ridges of mountains in the distance.

"I have seen Anne," Darcy said, returning to Charles' question without the need of prompting. "And she seems well enough in spirit. She insists on her contentment with her decision, although she does at least regret their secrecy." He groaned. "She insists she is happy."

Charles frowned.

"You do not believe her?"

Darcy shook his head.

"I believe she thinks she is happy. At the moment perhaps she is, but how long that state of affairs may be relied upon, I do not know." He did his best to summarize the conditions his cousin and her new husband were living in, illustrating the difference between Anne's current state and her previous life.

"It is not ideal…" Charles mused. "Might something not be done for them?"

Darcy's eyes flashed upwards, regarding his friend with suspicion.

"What more might be done? I have attempted to appease Wickham before, in light of his misdeeds. It had little enough effect on his character if this latest scrape is anything to judge."

Charles sighed, turning his countenance away and regarding the distant mountains.

"Perhaps you do not do it for Wickham. Your words, your worry, and Elizabeth's too, has all been for Anne. So why not let your compassion for your cousin dictate your actions? If they are married -" he glanced at Darcy, whose barely perceptible nod indicated this was true. "If they are married, then there is no help for one that will not help the other."

Darcy snorted. He put rather less stock in helping Wickham than did his friend. What was to say, once he got hold of whatever money Darcy could quickly scrounge up for them, he would not disappear, abandoning Anne to her shame and her fate?

"Have you spoken to the man?" Charles asked, watching Darcy's reaction carefully.

"He was there when I first called on Anne," Darcy said, dismissively. "We have spoken a handful of times."

"Alone?"

Darcy frowned.

"What difference does that make?"

"You said yourself, he is a master of deceit. You, knowing him, might recognise his falsehoods, but he is surely eager to display a certain persona to his new wife, even more so when you are present. How, then, can you seek to determine his true intentions with Anne there? No, Darcy, you must speak to him alone, man to man." Charles laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "And I will accompany you. Do not misunderstand me: I know you are angry with him, and I can see how dearly you would love to take the fellow's head off, but that is not the way to handle such a man. Can you see what injury calling Wickham out would cause to your cousin?" He drew his lips into a line. "And think, Darcy, if the worst was to happen and Wickham be killed, t'would not solve anything, Anne would be left a widow, and still saddled with scandal, and no husband by her side to help her to bear it."

A small smile played about Darcy's lips, as he regarded his friend.

"Since when have you become so wise?"

"Wise?" Charles shook his head. "You have called me many things, Darcy. I do not believe _wise_ has ever been amongst them."

"And yet today I use the word freely. I am grateful, Charles, for your presence here, although I am sorry for the discomfort of travelling so far, so quickly."

"What discomfort?" His friend shrugged his shoulders, with a laconic half-smile. "It is not as if I had some special concern keeping me in London, now that Miss Bennet - that is, now that Christmas is over and done. I intended to come north in the new year, in any case, this is but a few extra miles, and that is hardly worth acknowledging when the need is so acute."

Darcy nodded, knowing that his friend would not thank him for any further show of gratitude or emotion.

"I am glad you were able to accompany Elizabeth on such a journey." His lips quirked. "And your sister, too."

At this, Bingley laughed, and Darcy was cheered by the sound.

"Caro was furious to be dragged along." He rolled his eyes skywards. "In truth, I do not know why she was so determined to come with us. I certainly offered her escape on more than one occasion. We might even have detoured home, had she wished it, but she was adamant to continue on." He rubbed the back of his neck, thoughtfully, "It did not stop her complaining, however, about the discomforts of such a journey, or the speed with which we progressed." He blinked. "I hope a few hours' rest will have improved her temperament a little when next we meet."

"Come, Charles," Darcy said. "It is too cold to stand still. Let us walk on, and continue to talk. You must advise me further on how best to handle Wickham, for I wager your wisdom far exceeds mine in this instance…"


	14. Chapter 14

_Tap tap tap_.

Elizabeth ignored the sound, keeping her attention fixed on the page before her. When Darcy had suggested she rest, as Caroline intended to do, she had been poised to refuse, to argue that she was in no more need of rest than either of the gentlemen and indeed would much prefer to remain with them. Her own body had betrayed her, though, and it had been at that precise moment that she had struggled to stifle a yawn, which had been met with amusement from her husband, and an insistence that she returned to their room immediately for an hour.

 _I promise nothing will happen in your absence_ , he had said. _And if it looks likely to, I shall send for you immediately._

Reluctantly, then, she had agreed, but upon reaching the room Darcy had taken for himself found she was unable to sleep, and whilst her limbs ached, her mind was active still. She reached for a book, and although she was struggling to lose herself in its pages as thoroughly as she might have done at home, it at least provided a worthy distraction from concerns about Anne. With regards to her husband her mind was clear, at last, for she had guessed from the wistful look he had offered on their parting that like her, he was reluctant to bid farewell to the wife he had so recently reunited with.

 _Tap tap tap_. The sound came again, and this time Lizzy lifted her head, certain the sound came from the door to this particular room. She frowned. Why would Darcy feel the need to knock at the door of his own room?

"I am not asleep if that is what gives you pause. You need not fear to wake me!" she chided, as she stood and made her way to the entrance, pulling the door open with a smile, which froze when she beheld who stood at the threshold, an elegant hand lifted as if to knock a third time. "Miss Bingley!"

"You need not look so surprised to see me," Caroline said, coldly. "Or have you been so enraptured at being once more in Mr Darcy's presence that you forget those of us who made the journey at your side?" She did not add the words Lizzy knew she intended. _Whether we wished to travel or not._

"I am surprised," Elizabeth said, quickly. "But not at your presence: rather, at your presence _here_. I was under the impression that you were tired and had retired to your room in search of sleep."

"Sleep?" Caroline paused. "Well, yes. It is true that the journey did exhaust me, for you know I am not possessing of an incredibly _strong countenance_ _…._ "

"Then you must return to bed, Miss Bingley, and rest, for the gentlemen will wish to see us both well upon their return."

"Oh, but I could not sleep at a time like this!" Caroline insisted, brightening immediately as she spoke. "Indeed, I cannot imagine you are able to, either, with poor Miss de Bourgh's fate uppermost in your mind."

"Indeed," Elizabeth said, with a canny look at her travelling companion. Caroline's eyes were wide, her expression the very picture of concern for their friend, yet Lizzy fancied it was the scandal, the potential for gossip, that urged Miss Bingley into action.

"I felt sure you would be unable to rest until you had seen her for yourself, and I know you will not want to travel alone. Besides," she beamed. "Is not it pleasanter to call on our friend as two ladies, without the gentlemen along to complicate matters?"

Elizabeth ought to refuse, feeling certain at that moment that escorting Caroline Bingley to the home that Anne and Wickham shared would not please her husband, yet she was equally certain that if she refused, then Caroline would contrive to go alone, and who knew what upset her presence would cause to poor Anne. If Elizabeth was with her, at least she might temper Caroline's caustic attitude with some compassion. And, as much as it pained her to admit it, Miss Bingley was right. Lizzy did struggle to rest without seeing for herself Anne's true condition. She fancied the two had formed a close friendship and wished to reassure herself that Miss de Bourgh - _Mrs Wickham,_ as she now was - did not suffer unduly on account of her rash flight to Scotland.

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Bingley -"

"Caroline," Caroline put in. "I do think we might abandon all pretence of formality between us, Eliza dear, in the circumstances, do not you think?"

"Very well." Elizabeth stretched her lips in an obedient smile. "I appreciate your concern _Caroline_ , but I do not see how it will be possible for us to call on Mr and Mrs Wickham without a note of their address."

"Oh, but I have just such a note!" Caroline lifted her other hand, triumphantly clutching a scrap of paper bearing Mr Bingley's handwriting. "My brother left it amongst his belongings and I wished to ensure it was not lost."

Lizzy's eyebrow arched at this delicate description of Caroline's sifting through her brother's belongings. Surely Bingley was unaware of his sister's activities, for he clearly had not intended her to have the address, or he would have given it to her himself.

"If you would prefer to stay here…" Caroline began, deciding Elizabeth at once on a course of action.

"I do not prefer it," Elizabeth said, quickly. "Only permit me a moment to dress and I will join you." She closed the door on Caroline's satisfied smirk and hurried to locate her pelisse and bonnet, hurrying out a note to Darcy as she did so.

 _Dearest,_

 _I am accompanying Caroline Bingley to call on Anne. Forgive me if this was not your desire, but I must see for myself that she is alright, and dare not allow Caroline to go alone. We shall not be gone long._

Signing the note with a scribble, she left it propped up on the pillow, where Darcy was sure to see it if he returned before them. She scooped her book into her arms, wishing she had something more appropriate for a wedding gift.

"There you are, Eliza," Caroline said, as the door flew open once more. "I half anticipated you had returned to slumber and I would be forced to make a call alone. Come, let us hurry before the gentlemen return to spoil our plans!"


	15. Chapter 15

"What do you mean, you have not seen it?" Wickham thundered, upturning his case and fumbling around in the half-dark in pursuit of his missing purse. "I do not see where it can have got of its own volition. This place is poky enough that there are only so many corners for a thing to hide in!"

"Surely it is where you left it, dearest," Anne said, standing and crossing over to the small, smoky hearth, and feeling along the stone shelf that passed for a mantel. "Here." She held out the small leather pouch to him.

He snatched the purse from her hands, grimacing.

"It is lighter than I recall."

"I needed to pay our servant, George," Anne said, quietly. "And for tea, for you cannot expect me to keep house without a few essentials."

He dismissed her answer with a shrug, turning his attention to his fob-watch. If he left soon he might catch a hand or two at the inn, and make up his rapidly depleting savings. Whilst he was relieved Darcy had not sought to send him away immediately, he had half expected at least the promise of money from his old foe. No such luck. Darcy seemed inclined to insist that as the new Mr and Mrs Wickham had made their bed, he would be content to let them lie in it. He scowled at the dreary rooms they called home. It was one thing for a fellow to hole up in such a spot for a short while in the name of economy, but he was surprised that Darcy was satisfied to allow his cousin to languish here for days on end.

"George, I wonder when we might consider returning home -" Anne began, hesitantly.

"Home?" George laughed. "And where do you consider home? Recall, dearest, you insisted that we would not be welcomed in Kent. London is out of the question if you wish to avoid the gossip that is surely already circulating about the _ton_ , and I have burned as many bridges as are possible to have built in small towns up and down the country." He blew out a heavy sigh. "If you wish to go anywhere, you must speak to Darcy, for he has connections that might make our path a little smoother, were he to help us."

"I will - I will speak to him," Anne said, her voice shaking. "When next he calls. I will ask him -"

"Ask, plead, beg, you'll not make Fitzwilliam Darcy do a thing he does not wish to," Wickham said, flippantly. "And at present that includes helping his family."

Anne sank a little at his words, and when George looked at her he felt a flicker of concern in his chest. She was thin, gaunt, almost, in the shadows of the fire. She had never been healthy, he knew that, and her breathing had taken on an unhealthy rattle in just the few days they had spent in this damp hole of a house.

"You must try and go outside today, Anne," he said, reaching a hand out to brush her cheek. "Wrap up warm and take some air. You look so pale."

"I am quite well," she said, smiling as if to accentuate her words. Instead, the motion merely accentuated the hollows of her cheeks, the dark circles deepening under her eyes.

"But perhaps I might accompany you on your business, today. We could take dinner out, perhaps even invite William to join us -"

"No." Wickham's response was sharper than he intended, and he saw Anne flinch. "No, dear, you know I do not wish to spend a great deal of time amongst what passes for society here. The people are rough, uncouth, hardly those we might wish to befriend. And I do not imagine Darcy any more likely to take dinner with them as he is to spend time with us. It has been two days already since last he called here." He snorted. "I do believe, my dear, that he is ashamed of us. Were it myself alone who bore the brunt of Darcy's judgment, I would not mind it, for I have long been aware of my old friend's great pride and self-interest, and the way he looks down upon those who he perceives to be a disappointment. That he would act so cruelly to you pains me deeply, and I fear, were I to cross the fellow's path without your steadying influence and these four walls to contain me, I would speak words we might both come to regret."

Anne frowned, turning Wickham's reasoning over in her mind. He would retreat before she could construe a response. Taking his own coat off, he laid it over her shoulders, drawing her close enough to drop an affectionate kiss on her upturned forehead. "Now settle into your seat, like a good little wife, and I shall return home as soon as I can, with swelled coffers and something good to eat. Do not worry: it shall all come good in the end, we must just bide our time here a little longer while I fathom our best way forward."

His confidence soothed Anne, and she obediently sank into the one chair their home boasted, reaching for her writing-case.

"Perhaps I will write again to Mama. You know, I have already written once and received no response. I wonder if she is stunned into silence, or -" Anne said no more, but George could read her anxiety plainly in her features.

"Perhaps she hesitates over her pen as you have done," he said, gently. "It is not every day one receives news that one's daughter is married, after all. Perhaps she merely struggles to find a way to communicate her happiness on the page."

It was a bald lie, and they both knew as much, but they smiled at one another in shared complicity.

"I will write again," Anne said. "And suggest our calling at Kent. I am sure -" she coughed, her voice tight and strangled when she spoke again. "I am sure she will be eager to see us as soon as we have money enough and a mind to travel."

George said nothing, unsure that even he could successfully manufacture a response in the affirmative to such a suggestion. See them, Lady Catherine de Bourgh might, but he doubted she would be eager about a reunion.

"I'll not be gone long," he said, with a cheery wave. Stepping out into the street, he pulled the door closed behind him, feeling a flicker of guilt at leaving Anne in so squalid a place, without comfort or companion. A cat darted across his path, and he mused upon the notion of finding a kitten or some such gift for his new bride. That would cheer her, surely? _And help defy the mice_ , for he had heard the unmistakable rustle of the pests in the small cupboard that passed for their pantry.

Cheered by this thought, he walked along at rather a jaunty pace, his hands swinging loosely by his side. He was brought to an abrupt halt by the sight of two young ladies walking slowly down the street, examining each property they passed with expressions of interest. The first, he dismissed after acknowledging her elegant attire and plain features, but the second caused him to stop still in the street. He had seen this young lady before: had even, at one time, entertained thoughts of seducing her. It had been abandoned, of course, when he realised that she was no air-headed young girl to trifle with but quite as clever as he was, if not more so. Elizabeth Bennet - or _Darcy_ , as she was now. She was slower to smile than he remembered, and he wondered if she had learned the stern expression she wore from her husband, for he fancied she would scowl if she could, yet her brow was furrowed in concern, rather than anger. _You would bring your wife here, Darcy, to lecture me in your absence?_ Glancing about him for some escape, he ducked into an alleyway, grateful that the ladies had not seen him. They would go to call on Anne, surely. Wickham hurried along to the inn. Would it upset his wife, seeing her old friends, or having her friends see _her_ in this state? She had mentioned returning home with increasing regularity. This visit would surely merely increase her agitation. _I suppose it was only a matter of time,_ he reasoned. _Neither of us wished to hide here forever._ He had wanted to secure rather more certainty of a welcome, upon their return, but if that could not be helped there was no more to it. Darcy would help them, he reasoned. _For Anne, he will help. He must help._


	16. Chapter 16

"Here! This must be the place," Elizabeth said, her heart sinking as she examined the ramshackle cottage before them. Glancing back at Caroline, she saw her friend's eyes widen momentarily, before meeting Lizzy's expression with an ostentatious smile.

"Well, let us knock, then, Eliza, and not lurk in the street!"

Thus pressed, Elizabeth lifted her hand, knocking smartly on the door, and cautiously straining to hear any sound from within. Some moments passed before slowly the door creaked open to reveal Anne herself in the entrance.

"Lizzy! Oh, Elizabeth! I can scarcely believe it is you!"

Any doubts Elizabeth had felt about calling on Anne vanished at such a reception, and she felt hot tears pricking at her eyes, as she eschewed any idea of reserve, and threw her arms around her friend. She felt thin next to Elizabeth's body, slighter still than she had been at Kent.

"Are you quite well, Anne?" Unable to keep the concern from her voice or her face, Lizzy scanned her features for some reassurance, noting Anne's gaunt face, and the smile that did not entirely reach her eyes.

"I am better for seeing you! And you, of course, Miss Bingley. Do come in where it is warm, and we might speak a little more freely."

Lizzy had quite forgotten Caroline Bingley's presence beside her until she heard her name on Anne's lips, and she turned, seeing her own surprise mirrored on Caroline's face. Where Elizabeth felt concern, however, Caroline displayed distaste, all her excitement and thirst for gossip gone in acknowledging how small and unhappy was the home that had been taken by their friend.

"Come, Caroline," Elizabeth whispered in a voice low enough that Anne might not hear it. "We must go in, and not linger on the doorstep."

"Of course." Caroline plastered a smile on her face that convinced nobody, but to Elizabeth's relief, she obediently followed Anne into the house, clearing her throat and admiring, in a small, forced voice, the cosy warmth of such a _bijou_ home.

"It is only temporary, of course," Anne said, quickly. "And you must forgive me for any lack of comforts. I have not been entirely well, and we have but one servant who is rather less than attentive." Anne laughed, but it more betrayed her embarrassment and disappointment than anything else.

"We were not sure what to bring, or what you might need," Elizabeth said, thrusting the book forwards. "But I recall how dearly you loved to read at Rosings, and thought you might be in need of entertainment."

Anne took the book, flipping it open and reading the short inscription Lizzy had penned with a slight smile.

"Thank you, Lizzy," she said, setting the book down with care. "You are very kind."

She set to in gathering tea things, but Lizzy noticed that her own drink was taken in a cup not matching its partners. The interior of the small house was dark and cramped, and whilst there was a sofa that she and Caroline were able to share, close to the fire, there was only one other seat available to Anne, which she sank into, while the water boiled on the fire for tea.

"Where is your husband?" Caroline asked, tactlessly glancing around the room. "I do not suppose he remembers me, for we met but once in Hertfordshire."

Anne blinked, her smile delayed, but appearing at last.

"I will ask him," she promised. "He is out at present, seeing to some business in town. He will be so happy to hear you are both here and to know that you have called on us. He is a little hesitant, I believe, to return to England, unsure of the welcome we might expect."

"Your friends would be eager to see you," Elizabeth said, determinedly. There was a sharp intake of breath from Caroline and she ignored it. "And surely you would prefer to be surrounded by familiar places and your own belongings."

"You know me well, Lizzy!" Anne confessed, laughing quietly. "I am eager to be at home, but George delays: I believe he wishes to make a triumphal return and ensure that we will be at least acknowledged, if not welcomed." Her eyes darted to the mantel, and then back to Elizabeth. "I wonder, have you - have you heard from Mama at all?"

"Lady Catherine?" Lizzy's eyes lifted. _Does she know what has befallen her daughter?_ With effort, she maintained an expression of polite affection and shook her head. "No. I fear I have still not managed to win over your mother, dear. We have had no word from Kent: or at least, we had not when I embarked upon my journey north. I have written to my sister, Mary, to let her know of my arrival. Perhaps she has been more fortunate. I will pass on any news I receive in her next letter."

Seeing how her response caused Anne's features to fall, Lizzy hurried to change the subject.

"Was not it kind of Miss Bingley to join me? She and her brother came all the way to Scotland to ensure I arrived here both swiftly and safely. What good friends they have been!"

Anne lifted shining eyes to Caroline.

"I fear, Miss Bingley, that I owe you an apology," she began, haltingly. "For you see, I promised to call on you and Mr Bingley on my last day in London. It was a ruse, alas, and instead, I made my escape with my beloved George." She reached a hand out to Caroline, who hesitated a moment before awkwardly taking it. "Can you forgive me? I did wish, very much, to call on you and to get to know you both more, to find the same friendship with you that Elizabeth shares, but I had to follow George, who had built his plan carefully. I wanted to tell you." She looked at Elizabeth. "Oh, I wanted to tell both of you! But I knew Darcy would strive to prevent our fleeing, and I could not delay any longer. Seeing how bitterly Mama disapproved of your wedding, Lizzy, dear, I could only imagine her reaction to my plans. But, now that you are here you might get to know George a little better. I know you will love him as I do, given half the chance."

The kettle began to whistle and Anne let go of Lizzy's hand to see to it. Watching her friend strain to lift the kettle without shaking, Lizzy could wait no longer and leapt forward to offer her some assistance.

"Thank you," Anne murmured. "I feel a little weak today."

 _You ought not to be in such a place as this!_ Lizzy thought, drawing her brows together in a frown. The dark and the smoky air could not be helping Anne's health, but what solution could she offer?

"Perhaps you will join us for a short walk after we take our tea? The scenery around here is quite beautiful, and the fresh air will be fortifying for all of us."

There was a sound from Caroline, and Lizzy darted a glance over her shoulder, silencing her friend with a look.

"Now that is a providential suggestion!" Anne said, reaching forward to snatch up the one cup of the three that was the most sorry-looking and claiming it before her guests. "I promised George I would take some air today, though I confess I am not so excellent a walker as you, Elizabeth, or you must be, Miss Bingley. And," she laughed. "I do not enjoy walking alone in a place with which I am unfamiliar."

"You will not be alone!" Elizabeth said, taking a sip of her own tea and returning to her seat. "You will be with Miss Bingley and me!"


	17. Chapter 17

"Well, Richard, Mary, come in - or must we converse in the hallway like savages?"

Lady Catherine's shrill entreaty guided the Fitzwilliams into the inner sanctum of her London home and they found her in the sitting room, looking expectantly at the door as they entered.

"You are here alone?" She frowned. "Ah, of course. I imagine Anne will come with Mr and Mrs Darcy when they arrive."

Mary bit her lip at the snide tone of voice Lady Catherine deployed in the words _Mrs Darcy_ , and Richard must have noticed her reaction, for at that moment she felt his hand grip hers, unseen, and took strength from the quick squeeze.

"Actually, Aunt, whilst both Mary and I are here at your request, and because we are glad to see you, of course -" he stopped and dropped a penitent kiss on Lady Catherine's thin cheek. "Alas, I must also be the bearer of bad news."

Mary exchanged a look with her husband, and obediently sank into a seat near his aunt, watching her husband carefully. They had spent all day discussing how best to present what news they had of Anne's whereabouts and that of Darcy and Elizabeth. By providence, Richard had received a note from Darcy declaring that he had seen Anne and she was as well as could be expected. Unfortunately, the note also contained the information both Fitzwilliams had dreaded: Darcy had not arrived in Scotland in time to prevent the marriage from going ahead.

"Perhaps it is a good thing," Mary had suggested, when Richard ad spent ten minutes thrashing angrily about the study, quelling his temper only when a servant arrived, dispatched by his brother, to inquire as to his wellbeing.

"Good? How could marriage to such a man be good? Poor, foolish Anne! She has thrown away her prospects on this rake and he will ruin her utterly, and now, being wed, there is not a thing any of us may do to stop it."

"Perhaps he will reform," Mary said, quietly. "Stranger things do happen."

"It would be strange indeed," Richard had remarked, flatly. "It is probably a good thing Darcy is there and not I, for I would struggle not to throttle the fellow, were I faced with him again." He had jabbed a poker into the fire, which flared and hissed in indignation.

"Darcy controls his temper better than I ever did, although in this instance I do wonder if that is not necessarily a good thing. If any fellow deserved to feel the repercussions of his actions it is Wickham. Perhaps if he had been thrashed once or twice in the past he might have learned to behave."

"Recall, you are talking about your _cousin_ , now, dear," Mary said, laying a calming hand on Richard's fore-arm and guiding him to a seat. His health was much improved, she was pleased to note, and he scarcely exhibited any weakness at all, yet she did not wish for him to become over-exerted, ere he felt well again.

"My cousin by marriage." Richard groaned. " _My cousin!_ What a disastrous turn of events. Still, Darcy will take it harder. And Georgiana!" He sank his head into his hands. "Who is to tell her? She barely recovered from the shock of her own altercation with Wickham. To hear he has seduced her cousin - and married her? It will finish her."

"It need not," Mary said, stoutly. "If she has friends around her, and family. Besides, there are people who must know yet, before Georgiana."

Richard lifted his eyes to hers, the colour draining from his cheeks.

"You are right. My brother…well, he shall have mountains to say on the matter, I do not doubt. It will be one more reason for him to separate himself from the rest of the family, and consider himself our superior."

"Yes…" Mary nodded, slowly. "Yes, of course, Philip must be told. But I meant your aunt. She is expecting us to dine, all of us. The absence cannot be hidden, not now that we know the truth."

Richard's response was barely audible, but Mary sensed his weary acceptance of the burden of telling Lady Catherine. They would face her together.

The faced her together, now.

"Aunt, I have some news to tell you and you must listen, for it will not be easy to hear." Richard dropped to a knee in front of his aunt, that he might break the news in little more than a whisper. Mary caught but snatches of his words, though he had rehearsed it enough in her hearing that she well knew what he would say.

"Anne is not in London, although she was, briefly. She has fled north, to Scotland." A pause.

"Scotland?" Lady Catherine sniffed. "Nonsense. Why would she go to such a place? Who with, pray?" Her brow knitted. "You cannot mean to tell me…"

"I can, and I do. Anne is in Scotland. She fled there in the company of a gentleman -" he ground the word out, indicating to all present that he did not, in any way, consider George Wickham a _gentleman_. Rake, scoundrel, demon, these were all words he would much rather have used, but they must paint him as warmly as possible for Lady Catherine's sake, and for Anne's. "A Mr George Wickham. They- they are married, Aunt."

"Married?"

Mary flinched at the screech Lady Catherine let out. "My Anne, married? It cannot be true!"

She glanced over Richard's shoulder, her eyes desperately seeking out Mary, pleading for aid, for some suggestion that her lack-a-day nephew was teasing her, playing some game she neither understood nor appreciated.

"It is true, Lady Catherine," Mary whispered. "We just heard the news today."

"From whom?" Lady Catherine was white, her words little more than a breath.

"Darcy is there," Richard said. "He went - he tried -"

"They advocate this nonsense, I suppose?" She pushed Richard aside, hauling herself to her feet. "They encourage her to flee, to make a match with some _nobody."_ Her eyes narrowed. "And yet, he is not nobody. I fancy I recognise the name." Her lips moved, as she turned over in her mind the details Richard had provided. "Wickham… _not_ the young man old Mr Darcy was so foolish over?"

"Yes," Richard's voice was hoarse. "Yes, George Wickham grew up in common with Darcy, so, Aunt, it is not so very bad -"

"Not so very bad?" Lady Catherine cried. "Oh, ho! Richard, _you_ may think nothing of marrying as you please, and choosing a wife from nowhere, as Darcy does, as well, throwing away your prospects and your position with one foolish match after another. But Anne - my Anne!" She let out a wordless wail and lurched towards the door. "I will not take visitors this evening. Good night!"

The door slammed closed behind her, and Richard sank back on his heels, his chin to his chest.

"Come, Richard." Mary stood, crossing the room to her husband, and laying her hand on his shoulder. "We ought to go home."

"Home?" Richard's response was a bitter hiss of a word. "To have the same conversation over again, with my brother and his wife? Can you foresee it going any better?"

"No," Mary said, as Richard rose to his feet. She snuggled into his side, offering strength from her embrace. "But, my dear, I cannot imagine them taking it any worse."


	18. Chapter 18

Wickham laid his hand down with more grace than he felt. Inside, he raged against the loss: his third that day, and already more than he could afford.

"Another hand?" His companion grinned wolfishly at him, and Wickham resisted the urge to lash out, to wipe the smile off the older gentleman's face. The fellow nodded towards Wickham's purse, which lay, undisturbed, on the table near his elbow. "You've enough in there to stand another game, surely?" The challenge in his voice was inescapable, and Wickham knew the words that lay behind the invitation. _You_ _'ve spent a week winning our money from us: now it is our turn for revenge. You'll not act so much the Master if your purse is bled dry._

Wickham closed his hand over the pouch, moments away from asking to be dealt in, for this hand would be different, surely. This time his luck would change. He'd win back all he'd lost, and more! Before a single word was uttered, though, another voice broke through the low din of the pub, and his blood flared hot in his veins.

"Alas, Mr Wickham has no more time for cards. We were due to meet, were we not? I am late: my apologies."

Wickham did not need to lift his head to recognise Darcy, knew the tight smile he would see on his former friend's face, the look of disappointment that would pin his features immovably in place. Still, he had offered Wickham an out, and a chance to escape with his dignity intact and a few coins still about his person: he would not allow his own pride and irritation to prevent him from taking the opportunity that was open to him.

"Indeed, Mr Darcy." He winked infuriatingly at the man opposite him, a little cheered to see his companion's face slide momentarily into a frown at losing such easy quarry. "Well, chaps, I'll bid you farewell."

"For now," his companion muttered, reaching for his tankard. "You'll be back 'afore the day is out."

"Maybe." Wickham shrugged, easily, his confidence faltering only slightly when he stood face to face with Darcy, whose disappointment was not a mere disappointment, but anger, frustration, rage. Wickham had the fleeting notion that, had Darcy a weapon, he would be very close to using it. As it was, Darcy was a gentleman through and through, and would not lower himself to common brawling, particularly in such an inn as this. _Small mercies_ , Wickham thought, with a wince.

"Let us walk outside," Darcy said, pointing him towards the door. As they burst out into the pale frigid light, Wickham saw another tall fellow standing to one side, recalling his name to mind almost immediately. Mr Bingley. Of course: that would explain the presence of the man's sister here, they must have come all as one party. Wickham glanced momentarily back towards Darcy, wondering if he had underestimated his old friend, for, with Bingley as second, there was little chance of Wickham escaping any sort of duel.

"Listen, William, I do not know what you propose -"

"Nothing," Darcy said, his voice dripping with disdain. "If I wished to see you suffer injury, I'd have left you to your friends." He jerked his head back towards the inn. "How long do you think they would have played before discovering your cheating?"

"Cheating?" Wickham roared with laughter that was more bravado than anything. "If you saw my losses you'd know I was not cheating well if I was doing it at all."

"Perhaps not today, but your wins were not all of your own doing, I'll wager."

"I did not take you for a betting man," Wickham said, sourly. "And anyway, what did you mean by pulling me out of there? If it is lecture, only, then I shall bid you good day and continue home."

Darcy exchanged an irritated glance with his friend, but it was Bingley who spoke next.

"I hear I am to congratulate you, Mr Wickham," he said, in a sober tone. "On the occasion of your marriage to Miss Anne de Bourgh."

"Indeed," Wickham sniffed. " _Mrs_ Anne _Wickham_ , as she is now." He could not resist a glance at Darcy as he said this, but his old foe's features did not flash with anger the way Wickham expected. It was almost as if he had made his peace with the situation, and it no longer rankled him as it once had. _Peculiar._

"Well, I thank you for your congratulations, Mr Bingley. At least certain people know how best to respond to news of a wedding."

"It is hard to offer genuine thanks for a match made under duress," Darcy muttered.

"Duress? My dear fellow, Anne was as eager as I was to wed. Has she not told you as much? We are in love, what else is a young couple to do but seek to marry?"

"One might consider the blessing of one's family before one does."

"As you have done?"

This question was dropped so innocently that it was almost missed by Mr Bingley, but not by Darcy, whose ears it was intended for. He made no visible show of hearing, but a nerve twitched in his jaw and Wickham felt the glee of his shot finding its mark. _Yes, William, I know your secrets as well as you know mine, do not forget it._

Darcy said nothing but started walking with energy towards the small cottage Wickham called home. Bingley hesitated, but eventually, he fell into step too and Wickham, in spite of himself, followed suit.


	19. Chapter 19

At the threshold to the house, Darcy hesitated, and were it not for Bingley's presence beside him, he would have abandoned the plan altogether. As it was, his friend remained firm, where Darcy wavered, so that it was almost natural to open his mouth and utter the words he and Bingley had rehearsed earlier that day.

"Bingley and I have secured a private room to dine at the inn where we are staying: we should very much like it if you and Anne were to join us there in a day or two." He paused. "Thursday, perhaps."

This invitation shocked Wickham at least as much as it delighted his wife, for Anne, who had risen at the sound of the door opening, clapped her hands at the suggestion.

"Oh, how kind of you, William!" she said. "And Elizabeth and Miss Bingley will be there, too, I suppose?"

Darcy's eyes widened momentarily.

"I did not know you were aware of their arrival," he choked out.

"True enough, we thought it a fine surprise!" Bingley said, laughing to cover the moment of awkwardness that had descended on the house. "What a pity you knew it already. Still, we shall make a merry party, all the same."

 _Merry_ was not the word Darcy would have chosen to apply to such a grouping, still, it seemed to encourage Anne, and for that Darcy let it slide. He thanked providence again for sending him Bingley at this particular hour of need. In the privacy of his own mind, he might have wished for Richard, for the two had dealt with Wickham before, and knew his modes well. It was only today he began to count his blessings that it was calm, sensible Bingley by his side. Richard would have sallied into the fray, demanding vengeance and probably resorting to a duel or a fight and damaging both gentlemen's standings as well as their hides. Darcy cared little for Wickham's physical wellbeing, privately considering that a blow or two might knock some sense into the man, but to see her cousins fight with her new husband would hurt Anne, and for that reason, Darcy was glad that Bingley tempered him into acquaintance with the new Mr and Mrs Wickham. This dinner had been his idea, almost entirely, the arrangements all his. _You cannot ignore them forever, Darcy_ , he had said. _What_ _'s done is done, and now we must feel out a way forward for all concerned. I do not imagine anybody plans on hiding out here for the foreseeable future._

"Dinner?" Wickham asked, returning to the matter at hand.

"You need to eat, do not you?" Darcy asked, glancing over the threshold and into the small house. He knew well enough from previous visits how ill-equipped the home was for a lady such as his cousin, and he doubted their ability to fund eating well, with Wickham so often at cards.

"It is very kind of you, William," Anne said again, with a cautious nod to her husband. "We shall look forward to joining you on Thursday. Now, won't you and Mr Bingley join us? I can make a fresh pot of tea, and -"

"Thank you, Mrs Wickham," Bingley offered. "That is a lovely offer, but I am afraid we have plans. Darcy has promised to show me some more of this charming town, and we must make haste before we lose the light. Good day!"

He saluted both Mr and Mrs Wickham as if they were old friends which, in some sense, they were. If Darcy had known Wickham his whole life, Bingley had known him for half, although the two had never been close.

They made their farewells and retraced their steps back towards the town. Darcy was silent, unable to formulate words enough to say. Bingley, to his credit, took it upon himself to narrate all they saw, and make conversation in a jolly, carefree manner until they had put quite some distance between themselves and the Wickham house.

"Look, Darcy!" Bingley said at length. "Is that not our womenfolk?"

His friend seemed both surprised and amused, and his request was such that he lifted his head to look, and noticed that it was indeed both Elizabeth and Caroline, walking together some yards ahead.

"I suppose they were tired of resting!" Bingley said, cheerfully. "Come, let us catch up to them and see if they do not welcome our company. Mrs Darcy! Caro!"

He had hailed the ladies before Darcy could say a word, but he was not disappointed to see the warmth of the smile Lizzy turned towards them. That was quickly replaced by the merest hint of anxiety, and he was not unhappy to reach her side once more, where he might inquire, in low tones, what she and Miss Bingley had found to occupy themselves with that afternoon.

"We went to call on Anne," Lizzy said, with a nervous smile. "Forgive me, only -"

"I insisted we must go at once, and reassure ourselves of her wellbeing," Caroline said, with a histrionic sigh. "I cannot imagine a worse place, though! Their home is so small and cramped and I am sure it is not at all adequate for a lady to dwell in. Poor Miss de Bourgh said very little, and seemed pleased to see us, but do not you think she seemed a little -" she dropped her voice. "Low in spirits?"

"I think, rather, that she was a little overwhelmed by all that has happened, and by our sudden arrival, Caroline. Recall, she did not know us to be in Scotland at all, let alone on her very doorstep demanding attention."

"Demand!" Caroline's mouth fell open in surprise, and she sniffed, altogether put out by Elizabeth's effective silencing.

"You have spoken to Anne, then?" Darcy asked as the four young people began once more to walk, slowly finding their way back towards the inn they called home. "Do you find her altered?"

"A little." Lizzy was cautious with her words. "I meant what I said: I think it the sudden upheaval, and change in circumstances that has wrought the most change. She was delicate even in Kent."

Darcy grumbled something in agreement. His concerns were not easily laid at ease by these words. If Anne had been delicate in Kent, how much worse would this scandal hit her?

"But she seemed very pleased to see us - to see both of us! She said that you had been to call on them already, and was altogether relieved that we have not cast her aside." She drew her lips into a line. "She said nothing of her mother, and I wager she fears Lady Catherine's reaction to the news. We must tell her, must not we?"

"Richard will see to it," Darcy said, his lips quirking in discomfort. "A task I do not envy him in the least."


	20. Chapter 20

The Fitzwilliams were passing a quiet evening together a day or two later when Lady Catherine called, unannounced and unexpected, at the house.

"Aunt Catherine!" Philip stood, greeting the aunt he scarcely saw and yet still afforded all due respect and attention she deserved. "Please, do join us. Will you stay to dine?"

"I will not." With an imperious nod, Lady Catherine turned to Richard, her eyes alighting momentarily on Mary, who vacated her seat at the piano and moved instinctively to her husband's side.

"How lovely to see you again, Lady Catherine," Mary ventured, when neither gentlemen seemed poised to break the silence. "Are you -" her voice faltered, the last word emerging as scarcely a squeak. "Well?"

"Well? My daughter has absconded to Scotland with a scoundrel. How can you imagine my faring in any way well?"

Mary shrank back as if she had been struck, and Richard angled himself between his wife and aunt as if to protect Mary from Lady Catherine's onslaught.

"I came only to tell you that I shall no longer trouble you by my presence in London. You may tell my daughter, should she ever care to return, that she need not come to Kent. If she is determined to proceed in this ridiculous effort, she shall do so without my approval or acknowledgement." She drew in a ragged, dramatic breath. "She is lost to me forever!"

These histrionics appeared to settle the matter for Richard, and he nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if reaching a decision.

"I am sorry for your suffering, Aunt," he said, stiffly. "But if you wish Anne to know of your feelings, you must tell her yourself, by letter if not in person. _When_ she and her new husband return to England -" he had placed heavy emphasis on the first word, affording such a development more certainty than he had in private discussion. "I shall do my best to help them, and welcome them into my home."

" _Your_ home?" Lady Catherine arched an eyebrow, but Richard would not be drawn nor distracted from his words.

"I have never hidden my opinion of George Wickham, and it has not changed now. But Anne is my cousin, and I shall not heap more suffering upon her on account of one mistake."

The room had fallen so silent that one might have heard a pin drop, and Mary feared for a moment that Richard had gone too far. Just as she tried to conjure some conversation that might undo her husband's brash resolve, Lady Catherine straightened, horrified, but unsurprised.

"Your position has long influenced your attitudes, Richard," she said, peering down her large nose at him, though she had to tilt her head backwards in order to do so, Richard being quite a bit taller than her. "A mere second son may marry as he chooses. I might expect you to view my daughter's rash actions with approval, just as you did Fitzwilliam's ridiculous decision to marry your wife's sister. I wash my hands of you, each and every one!"

With a tragic air, she spun on her heel and stormed from the room, her feet echoing loudly from the hallway.

"Well," Philip observed, peering over the edge of his newspaper at his brother. "Shall we go down to dinner?"

Richard turned in shock to Mary, and she saw her own surprise reflected in his features.

"Our aunt has disowned her daughter, and practically disowned us, and that is all you have to say?" Richard spluttered.

"What else is there?" Philip shrugged. "Nothing I say will induce Lady Catherine to change her mind, nor resolve the issue of Anne's marriage. I see neither of them on a daily basis, and so the impact of their trials upon my life will be fleeting." His eyes narrowed in concern. "You care far too much for others, Richard. It has always been to your detriment. Better to let the world turn much as it desires, and focus only on one's own concerns."

Richard's mouth fell open as if he was unsure what to say in response to such a speech from his brother.

"Come, Richard," Mary whispered. "Let's go down to dinner with your brother and Louisa, and speak no more of this at present."

To her surprise, Richard laughed.

"You know, brother, oftentimes I feel I do not understand you at all."

Philip's eyebrows lifted, but he did not seem unduly upset by the revelation.

"We are a decade apart in age and have scarcely spent more than a few months in the same place at once, so it can hardly come as a surprise to you that we are as strangers at times." He cleared his throat. "But, that said, I have appreciated having you here, and your new wife too. You must stay as long as you wish it, for I find it rather entertaining to have my younger brother so close by." His eyes twinkled in a manner not unlike Richard's, when he observed something particularly humorous.

Mary met her husband's gaze with a surprised smile and saw a sense of peace settle over his features that had not been present yet for their entire time in London. When she took his arm and they walked to the dining room, he took advantage of their proximity to whisper a word or two in her ear.

"How is it, Mary, that one branch of my family tree is collapsing in upon itself, and the other springs with new life?"

She had no answer but walked alongside him happier than she had been in a long time. _If only Anne might find this happiness with her husband,_ she thought, her mind wistfully returning to her friend. _I hope Elizabeth and Mr Darcy might be able to offer the assistance we may not._ Privately, silently, she vowed to be even more welcoming than Richard had suggested. If Lady Catherine intended to cut her daughter out entirely, then Anne would be in need of friends and family around her. Glancing between the brothers as they reached the table, she felt a sense of anticipation that had nothing to do with the delicious scent of food that reached her nose. If Richard and his estranged brother might find a new communion, what was to say Anne might not yet be reunited with her mother? _Stranger things have happened_ _…_


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N - sorry I haven't interacted much with reviews, I've been super busy working on the follow up to this book which is almost finished but as yet title-less :/_

 _I'm away this weekend, so decided to go ahead and upload the rest of A Visit to Scotland today. Hold onto your hats, lots of new chapters today._

 _I really hope you're enjoying this story and will stick around for the next in this series - hopefully will start sharing that on Monday (with title ;)_

 _Happy Thursday, guys!_

* * *

Elizabeth squinted at her reflection in the glass, adjusting a curl, lamenting the lack of another gown, and pretending not to notice the restless figure of her husband who paced behind her.

"If you do not sit still," she murmured. "You will be exhausted before the evening begins."

"And if I do not burn off some of this energy I shall say or do something we shall all live to regret."

She turned, then, to see Darcy's pace was only matched by the ferocity of the scowl he wore. He must have sensed her attention, though, for when he turned to continue his progress, he caught her eyes, and wrested his features into something that might have been a smile, were it not for the knitted brows that accompanied it.

"I thought this dinner was your idea?" Elizabeth asked, reaching out her hand and gratified when he stopped his ceaseless marching and came to sit opposite her, taking her hand in both of his and turning it over to examine the palm, as if he might divine the tone of the evening that stretched out before them.

"Bingley's." He sighed. "It seemed wise at the time. Now that the hour is upon us, I am not so sure. What have Wickham and I to say to one another that can be said in the presence of ladies? How can we pretend all is well, that I am happy to see such a match take place?"

"But it has already taken place," Elizabeth reminded him, gently. "Continuing to oppose Wickham means to oppose Anne, and I rather think she faces opposition enough in the shape of her mother."

Darcy nodded, his gaze straying, reflexively, to the letter that had arrived mere hours earlier, addressed to Elizabeth from Mary and sent with all haste. They had been delighted to hear of Richard's ongoing recovery, but the news of Lady Catherine's sudden and surprising arrival in London made his heart sink. She would know, then, for an addendum in Richard's scrawl indicated his intention to tell her, if she had not already been privy to rumours concerning her daughter's activities. Darcy had known they could not keep the secret for long, particularly when the worst was confirmed. An indiscretion might be concealed, but a marriage?

"Is it really so very bad?" Elizabeth asked. It was a question she had posed several times, but her husband's answer had remained the same. _Bad or not, it cannot be helped._ "I think Anne truly loves him -"

"It is not Anne's affections I doubt," he said, shortly. "She would never have made such a decision if her heart were not utterly lost to that man. I fear she sees only a part of what Wickham is, though, for he is adept at concealing his true self from those he wishes to deceive."

"I do not know Wickham as you do," Lizzy said, carefully. "And, certainly, do not imagine to understand his true character. But…surely there is some comfort to be sought from the fact that they are married. If he wished only to ruin her…" Darcy's eyes flashed and Elizabeth said no more.

"Matrimony is far more advantageous to Wickham's pocketbook than a mere dalliance would have been." His lips quirked. "Although he may come to regret it, for if my aunt does not take the news well, and I have no reason to believe she would, she may yet contrive to prevent Anne's dowry from passing into his hands."

"She wouldn't be so callous, surely?"

Darcy raised an eyebrow.

"You have met my aunt, have not you? In fact, I fancy you, more than anyone, knows precisely how callous she might be when she chooses." He stood, with a sigh. "No, I think there are difficulties ahead for the new Mr and Mrs Wickham far more than the damage to Anne's reputation such a stunt affords." He glanced at his fob-watch. "Well, my love, we can tarry no longer."

Standing, Lizzy took the arm her husband offered, and the two walked in silence down to the small private room they had secured for the evening.

"You must forgive me my bad temper," Darcy muttered, as they approached the door. "I am aware of my moods and whilst I strive to correct them, at times these concerns make moderation impossible." He smiled, fleetingly at her. "I should reserve such behaviour for Wickham, for he surely deserves it."

Lizzy pinched him lightly on the arm, and he looked at her in confusion.

"Were you not angry at this I should wonder at your being entirely sensible. Yet we must strive to accept the circumstance, to be the best friends we might be to Anne, and by extension to Mr Wickham. Promise me you will try."

Darcy considered her request a moment, before permitting her one more wry smile.

"I promise I will attempt to try…will that suffice, Mrs Darcy?"

"For now."

Reaching the room, Lizzy was glad to see that Caroline and Mr Bingley were already present, and the four friends greeted one another, making polite conversation on the surprising comfort afforded by this small room, the promise of a hearty meal, and their plans for the morrow. A knock brought their affectation of comfortable conversation to a halt, and as the door opened everyone stood.

"Good evening, sir." Their proprietor's eyes sought out Darcy. "Your guests 'ave arrived, sir. Mr and Mrs George Wickham."

"Thank you," Darcy spoke for everyone in welcoming the new arrivals and Lizzy was pleased to note that his voice remained calm and modulated. Indeed, were she not as well acquainted with the moods of his face, she would presume him entirely unruffled by the presence of their guests. It was only the stiffness to his manner, the eyes that glanced too quickly to Anne, widened fractionally at her appearance, and fixed with a glare on Mr Wickham that indicated anything was amiss at all.


	22. Chapter 22

"Good evening Mr and Mrs Darcy. Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley." George turned a wide smile around the room, his hand holding tight to his bride as if she were some prize granting him admittance to this inner sanctum of respectability.

"What a lovely room this is!" Anne said, breaking the moment of awkward silence that accompanied their entrance. Wickham had not been insensible of the warm conversations that had faded to nought upon their arrival, and he would have to be half blind or stupid not to notice the ferocity of the stare Darcy had fixed him with. Ignoring him, he pulled out a chair for his wife, and everyone returned to their seats.

"I see you found us without difficulty, Mr Wickham," Bingley said, leaping headlong into the fray.

"There being so many alternatives to choose from in so small a town as this," Wickham remarked, with a wry grin. "As soon as William arrived I knew there was but one inn that would meet with his satisfaction, and even then only by virtue of it being the best, locally." He flicked his eyes to Darcy's. "Tis hardly Pemberley, is it, William?"

Darcy said nothing, but Wickham knew that his comments infuriated his old friend just as well as if he had offered some response. He turned his attention to the young lady sitting beside him.

"And Miss Elizabeth - or Mrs Darcy, as I must address you now. How surprised I was to hear of your marriage to my old friend. Surprised and pleased, of course. It seems to me when we met that you were rather less fond of the gentleman who is now your husband." He shrugged his shoulders. "How fast things change."

"Indeed, Mr Wickham." Elizabeth smiled, politely, lowering her gaze a moment before speaking again. "In your case, too, things seem to have changed quickly. Where do you and Anne intend to make your home?" She fixed him with a gaze that was not easy to shrink from. "I cannot assume you intend to stay long in your current location. Surely Anne, if not you, will be eager for some pleasant society?"

There, she had lingered on the word "pleasant" as if to imbue it with meaning. Wickham's grin faded fractionally. _So, your husband has passed judgment on the company I keep and told you of all of my misdeeds_. He ought not to be surprised. When would Darcy ever pass up the opportunity to run him down?

"We have not decided yet, have we, my dear?" he said, feeling the sudden need for Anne's voice to join the conversation. Of all those present she, and only she, was forever on his side. Even when he disappointed her - and he was not foolish enough to imagine their current cramped accommodations and lonely living were not at least in part a disappointment to her - she would not own it, and offered him such unconditional love and affection that it was a security for him, even when all else was gone. "But we are happy together, and that is more than can be said for many newlyweds."

"I rather think most couples accomplish happiness at first, though it may be fleeting." Darcy's words were muttered under his breath, quietly enough that they would not reach Anne's ears, but Wickham discerned them and recognised his old friend's predictions for the future. _You expect me to tire of marriage and abandon my wife ere we are even settled._ He bristled a little, but could not deny he had a reason for such a supposition. William had known him long, must know of the love affairs he had begun and cast aside without a thought. _That was before,_ he thought. _Things are different now._ He turned, on impulse, to look at his new wife and was startled to see her pale, though the room was small and more than adequately heated by the open fire in the hearth. She shivered, and he glanced over towards the fire, wishing they had taken a seat nearer to it.

"Do you intend on returning to London, William?" Anne asked, finding her voice at last. "Or perhaps Pemberley is next on your tour, for it is nearer, now." She smiled, but there was a note of sorrow in her features.

"Perhaps," Darcy said, never lifting his eyes from Anne's face. "I have not yet entirely decided."

"Of course." Anne nodded. "Elizabeth will be eager to see her family again, I do not doubt."

Anne's voice was tinged with sadness and not for the first time Wickham felt a flare of guilt for the future he had condemned her to. It had been folly, thinking that once they were married things would fall pat to please him. Lady Catherine's silence had weighed heavily on his new wife, and whilst he had considered his skills unrivalled in winning over ladies of means and merit, he now recognised that such a feat would be rather more difficult with Lady Catherine de Bourgh than he had previously considered, particularly with no support from other quarters within Anne's family. _You knew it_ _would not be an easy path,_ he counselled himself. _But the money_ _…_ Yet that thought, too, had become hollow. The promise of financial recompense was less enticing as it became less likely. He did not regret the marriage, but the future that lay ahead suddenly seemed altogether colder and poorer than he had previously imagined.

"Have you heard from your mother, Mrs Wickham?" Caroline Bingley asked, in a curious tone. Wickham's eyes flashed over to her, feeling all of a sudden how unkind it was to raise such a matter at the table when the issue clearly pained his wife. Miss Bingley's face, however, was a studied picture of innocence, and he wondered if it had been the scent of gossip or true friendly inquiry which had prompted the question.

"No," Anne said, quietly. "I have written to her, but…there has been no reply."

"Why, she has likely not received your letter!" Caroline remarked. "For did not you hear tell she was in London, Charles?"

Bingley was sensible enough to say nothing, taking an extraordinary interest in his dinner-plate, but the tips of his ears flashed red and Wickham felt a flare of anger that brother and sister had been idly discussing events and people as if they were mere fodder for entertainment. Darcy's expression, too, reflected his own thunderous anger and he felt a strange kinship with his old foe. Their eyes met, and neither gentleman looked away until Anne spoke again.

"She is?" Stricken, she reached for Wickham. "Oh, George! She will see I am not there and fret, for my letter surely missed her at Rosings. Oh, what shall we do?"

"You need not do anything," Darcy muttered. "Colonel Fitzwilliam will ensure she knows the truth." He lifted his eyes to Anne, wide and ringed with sympathy. "I am afraid she will not delight in the news."

 _Not delight_. Wickham might have laughed. He could well imagine any older lady being less than thrilled by the news her daughter had run away to Scotland to marry an itinerant scoundrel. But he felt Anne's fingers slacken on his arm, and when he looked at her all trace of humour vanished from his face. Anne's pale face was blotchy, her eyes filling with tears.

"It is done, then," she whispered. "I knew she would be unhappy, but hoped she might hear the news from my own pen. If she heard…gossip…"

"Not gossip, dear," Wickham said, speaking as tenderly to her as if she were a child. "Colonel Fitzwilliam will have told her as gently as he knew how." This was no certainty: for Colonel Fitzwilliam was no admirer of Wickham's, yet he felt certain the fellow would move heaven and earth to spare harm coming to his cousin, as he and Darcy had both done for Georgiana. Wickham blinked, then, seeing all too clearly the pain his rash actions had caused to this family, not once, but again and again. The sale of his living, the squandering of his wealth, the payment of debts over and over again by Darcy, without comment or complaint. Georgiana had been the last straw, Wickham knew, and yet Darcy had done his utmost to conceal the affair. He had acted to spare his sister's reputation, certainly, yet it had also permitted Wickham the opportunity to move on, unscathed, and continue on his mission. _My mission._ He railed at his own selfishness. _And what was that? To do exactly as I pleased? To destroy myself, and anybody foolish enough to care for me?_

"Excuse me," he said, gruffly pushing back from the table. He set Anne's hands gently, so very gently, on the table-top, disturbed by their frail whiteness against the heavy cloth, and stood. "I must just take a moment's air. Do - do please continue with your meals." He hurried to the door and out, through the raucous interior of the inn and into the night.


	23. Chapter 23

Darcy was half-inclined to let Wickham go. _Let him run from this, as I knew he would_. His anger was kindled against him, against all the damage he had done in his short life, and he felt, momentarily, that he might, at last, be free of cleaning up the man's messes.

"Ought we…?" Bingley murmured, shifting in his seat.

Darcy raised his glance, first to his friend, and then to Anne, who gripped the table-top so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"George?" she murmured, turning towards the door. She swayed, even in her seat, and Elizabeth hurried to her side.

"Here, Anne, dear," she said, soothing her as one might a babe in arms. "Come, you must sit closer to the fire. Your hands are like ice. Darcy will go and see to Mr Wickham. I am sure he merely wished for some exercise, you know how gentlemen are when they are shut up indoors…." Nonsensical words strung into sentences that made a semblance of coherence, but, Darcy knew, Anne heard not a word. It was the tone of Lizzy's voice that goaded her into movement, the gentleness of her embrace that edged her closer to the fire, that kept her upright. His eyes met Elizabeth's, and he saw his own concern mirrored back to him. _You must bring him back_ , she commanded. _For Anne_ _'s sake, you must make it alright._

He was on his feet a moment later, throwing a command to Bingley over one shoulder to _care for the ladies a moment_ , and ignoring Caroline's open-mouthed observance of the domestic drama.

"Is everything alright, sir?" the inn's proprietor asked, having seen not one but two gentlemen flee the room in quick succession.

"Quite alright, thank you," Darcy said, not slowing his pace a moment. He ignored the crowd that populated the busy dining area, fixing on the door and hurrying through it.

Wickham was standing over to one side, hunched over a wall and fumbling over some object. Another two steps and Darcy discerned it was a pipe, and he was struggling to fill it with the meagre pinch of tobacco he had, with fingers that shook with more than cold.

"Will you make a habit of abandoning your wife at the dinner table?" Darcy asked, his anger simmering and giving his words an edge that was not lost on Wickham. His old friend's shoulders sagged, and he knocked the pipe aside, turning and meeting Darcy head on.

"Do you come to lecture me, William?" he asked, his eyes flashing with resentment and something else. Fear?

Darcy blinked. _Wickham does not fear me. He despises me. He lives to torment me. And he succeeds at it admirably_ _…_

"I come to ask if you intend to join us for dinner." It took all of Darcy's strength to speak moderately, not to fly at George and strike him as he would have done when they were children. Then, George had been bigger than him, though younger, and he always came off the worse in their boyhood squabbles. Punishment, then, had also included an extra heaping of coals on his head from his father, who sought always to remind Darcy of his position in life. _You are already so greatly favoured above young George, William, by virtue of your education, your position, your prospects. Do not seek to subjugate him entirely, for he admires you so. You must set an example to him, and teach him to do well._ Darcy had vowed to try, and he _had_ tried. But now, he began to think that Wickham was beyond helping.

To his great surprise, then, George laughed.

"You ask if I intend to join you for dinner?" He mimicked Darcy's polite tone to perfection. "I declare, William, the world could be burning to the ground and you would still stop to ensure you wore the correct pair of gloves."

"Whereas you would stand to one side enjoying the chaos, having lit the blaze." Darcy shot back. The severity of his response hit home, and George leaned back, something akin to admiration fleetingly crossing his face.

"Do you even care for the damage you have done - the damage you continue to do?" Darcy found that he could scarcely stop the flow of angry words that tripped over his tongue, nor did he wish to. He had bottled up his anger at George Wickham for too long, never saying to the man's face even a fraction of the bitter thoughts he had nursed. "You bounce from crisis to crisis, little noticing what disasters you cause, or who is pulled in your wake. You care little enough for Anne - not only seducing her but marrying her! You realise there is no chance for her now? And what of Georgiana?" His voice lowered dangerously. "Do you even consider how she fares? And now she must be faced with you forever close by, and married to her cousin!" He shook his head. "But why am I surprised that this cruelty is not beyond you? Truly, George Wickham has never once, not even for a moment, cared for a single person other than George Wickham."

His tirade over, Darcy stopped, breathing heavily and struggling to wrangle his thoughts back into order. He had prevented himself from flying physically at George and striking him, but he had allowed his words to fly in his stead and he was surprised to see that at least some of them had found their mark.

"You are right," Wickham said, slowly. He dropped his gaze to his boots, looking at that moment the very image of the twelve-year-old boy Darcy remembered from childhood. "Come, Darcy, do not stop there. Tell me more about my troubles. My father's memory spoiled. My living sold out for money I squandered at cards and on women whose names I did not even learn. My studies…" he laughed. "What a farce my schooling was. I am not stupid, you know, and I think that fact outraged my tutors still more than my desire for fun. I might have learned more, succeeded more, had I applied myself to my books with even a fraction of the attention I gave to drinking and larking with fellows who were not my friends." He looked up at Darcy then, his expression unreadable. "How is Georgiana? I behaved so poorly to her, I know that now." He shook his head. "I knew it then, and yet I persisted. It was so easy, you see. She loved me." He shrugged. "Even when I stank of beer and was wretched to her, she looked upon me with those eyes that were so filled with compassion - just as yours now are filled with anger - and I hoped I might, somehow, make a change." He sniffed. "It is dreadfully hard for a fellow to make any sort of change without money, though, and that has always been my downfall."

"If you required money why not ask for it?" Darcy asked, wearying of George's familiar excuses. In truth, his foe's response surprised him, and he felt warily as if he were being manipulated. Had he not better knowledge of Wickham's Machiavellian orchestrations, he might have been moved by the man's show of piety. He seemed every inch the penitent sinner, sorrowful and poised to repent.

"Would you have given it, had I asked?"

"I gave you plenty." Darcy did not dare to run up an account, recalling half a dozen times off the top of his head when he - and his pocketbook - had stepped in to secure George Wickham's pride or freedom. More than once his safety, too, for the fellow had a way of finding himself indebted to those who would as easily take a limb as a coin when owed.

"And I squandered it - yes, Darcy, I see you are eager to remind me of my follies. You need not." His voice dropped to miserable, self-pitying whisper. "I am well aware of them. More, even, than you, for you know only a fraction of my misdeeds."

Fearing a confession, Darcy cleared his throat.

"It matters little, what happened in the past," he muttered. "My concern is with the present, and the future. You are wed to my cousin, and for reasons that escape me, she seems truly to care for you. My question is, will you endeavour to deserve her affection? Will you strive to make yourself a better man, to build a better life for her than your current state condemns her to?"

"What hope do I have?" Wickham asked, kicking at his pipe and sending it skittering across the cobbled ground. "I have no position, no employment. Your other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, saw to that."

"And did you work hard to convince the regiment of your commitment, in spite of what rumours reached them?"

Wickham said nothing.

"What do you want, George?" The question was put so quietly, so gently that Darcy surprised even himself. It was as if he saw before him not George Wickham, rake and ne'er-do-well, but young George, the boy who had been his close companion and friend, the fellow he had found himself in scrapes right alongside, as often as they had been opposed, the son of the man his father had valued - and swore his own son to protect and aid as much as he could.

"To succeed," Wickham muttered, at last. "To be happy."

"Are you willing to work?" Darcy asked. "You have had your time of playing, now, of careening about and acting the gentleman without the funds to back it up. You have a wife now, a good and kind woman who will stand by you and love you all her days, whether you deserve it or not."

Wickham rolled his eyes skywards, and Darcy felt certain his lecture did more harm than good.

"Personally, I care little what happens to you," he said, realising he could no more reason with Wickham now than he had been able to in times past. "Stay here and wallow, blame me for every ill that befalls you, drink and smoke and gamble yourself into an early grave - the choice is yours." His voice lowered ominously. "But I will not allow you to ruin my cousin any more than you already have. She will return to Pemberley with us before the week is out. You may come, if you truly intend to change."

Darcy's words surprised even him, but he did not take them back. He straightened and turned back towards the inn.

"Now, will you join us for dinner or shall we carry on without you?"


	24. Chapter 24

Colour had returned to Anne's cheeks, but Elizabeth's anxieties were but a little assuaged. Her breathing was low, and although she listened attentively to what words Lizzy summoned up to say, she did not offer any rejoinder. It was monologue, not conversation, and Lizzy glanced over to where Mr Bingley sat, watching them carefully and looking rather as if he would like to summon Darcy back.

"Would you like some water, Miss Anne?"

Lizzy was grateful that the severity of Anne's situation was not lost on Caroline Bingley. In fact, the frail figure before them seemed to shock sense into Bingley's sister and render her kind, which realisation rather softened Elizabeth's feelings towards her. She knew Caroline wished to leave, that even the pursuit of delicious gossip was not enough to render her happy with their current accommodations. She had overheard more than one sharp word exchanged between brother and sister on their journey up and since their arrival in Scotland, with normally mild-mannered Mr Bingley exclaiming on more than one occasion, "The Hursts are at home: you might have stayed with them, you might stay with them now without it costing us much of a detour, Caro, so for goodness' sake stop complaining. If you wish us to carry on without you only say the word." There was no trace of disagreement between the pair now, for both held concern for Anne as their only focus.

"Thank you." Anne reached gratefully for the glass that Caroline had poured for her, and took a scant sip, coughing as she swallowed. Her breathing remained laboured, and Lizzy wondered again at the wisdom of her staying in the damp, dreary cottage she shared with her new husband. If only they might persuaded to move - but move where? It was true enough that Lady Catherine would not welcome them to Kent. London, too, would be rife with gossip about Anne's flight north. There must be some other place, where the new Mr and Mrs Wickham might live quietly, and allow the rumours to die down. _Pemberley!_ The word was a balm to her - the promise that awaited at the end of this dark tunnel. She and Darcy had discussed returning there, once this business was settled, although her husband would not be drawn on what "settled" would look like. _Might they come with us to Derbyshire?_ she wondered. That would be distance enough from both Kent and London to afford a little privacy, and they would be close enough to have friends on hand. Lizzy lifted her gaze to the door, wondering how long they were to leave Darcy and Wickham without going after them. As if reading her mind, Bingley stood.

"I ought to -"

He had not finished his thought before the door opened, and Wickham stumbled quietly back into the room, closely followed by Darcy. Lizzy's eyes widened at the strained cordiality that existed between the two men. When she raised a questioning glance to her husband, he dismissed it with the tiniest shake of the head, his unspoken promise clear in his eyes that he would relay all that had happened later, in the privacy of their own room.

"George!" Anne breathed, turning back towards her husband. "George, dear, is everything alright?"

"Don't concern yourself with me," he muttered. Lizzy was touched by the evident worry on his face though, and the softness he injected into his voice. "Are you still unwell, my love?"

"Tis nought but a cold," Anne said, smiling broadly. "I feel very much better here, by the fire."

"You must eat." He pushed his own plate towards her. "You have not eaten enough since we arrived here."

"Yes, come on, we must all eat before the food gets any colder!" Bingley said, cheerily reaching for his fork and eating with relish.

"I do not know when I have eaten a more satisfying meal," Caroline remarked, and Elizabeth shot her a grateful smile. She was not sure what had come over the obnoxious Miss Bingley in the last few minutes that had thus far evaded her, but she seemed acutely aware of the difficulties between those seated at the table. Instead of plundering the effect for her own entertainment and gossip, though, she now appeared to understand that it was for Anne's sake that peace reigned, and was inclined to contribute. Lizzy assured herself that her friend was eating, however slowly, and returned to her own seat, next to Darcy. He strategically avoided looking at Wickham, but, Lizzy felt, it was not out of anger or malice that he averted his gaze, stealing only occasional glances at Anne as if to reassure himself of her wellbeing.

"Is everything settled?" she whispered, under cover of Bingley's friendly quizzing of Wickham over the fine countryside that surrounded them. Darcy nodded, lifting his eyes to meet hers. Lizzy ventured a smile and was gratified to see it returned, however fleetingly, and returned to her own meal.

"Well, Bingley," Darcy said when his companion paused for breath. "I hope Scotland has not won your heart too completely, or you shall be forced to remain here alone. Mrs Darcy and I, and Mr and Mrs Wickham, will be returning shortly to England." A hush fell over the table, and Lizzy found herself wondering what words were to fall from her husband's lips next. She could not quite believe his easy inclusion of "Mr and Mrs" Wickham in a sentence with their own names and hung on his words lest there be some pronouncement therein that would explain his change of heart. Instead, she almost dropped her fork at his concluding statement. "We shall go to Pemberley."


	25. Chapter 25

_Pemberley._ The word echoed like a whisper around the table, and Darcy felt five pairs of curious eyes fix upon him. There was but one pair he cared for, though, and he turned immediately to Elizabeth.

"Provided you agree to it, Elizabeth. You have often said you wished to see Pemberley, and it was our intention to go there after Christmas. You do not dislike the idea?"

"No, indeed!" she said, with a happy smile. "I rejoice at it. But will -" she trailed off, but Darcy foresaw her question. Georgiana might welcome them to Pemberley, but what would she make of George Wickham, let alone George Wickham and his wife _Anne de Bourgh._

Darcy's brows knit. He had not reached a decision about Georgiana. She must see Wickham again, that much was plain, but was her constitution strong enough to stand it at present?

"Do you know, Mr Darcy," Caroline began, a moment later. "I have long had a desire to invite Miss Georgiana to visit us at my dear sister's home, Lattimer Place, which is not too far from Pemberley. I wonder, if you are to take a party home, whether she might not be persuaded to come quite soon."

Darcy stole a glance at Caroline, unsure what to make of her words. Ordinarily, he might assume her to be teasing, interfering or otherwise scheming to some end that would benefit her, but nobody else. His brain ran in circles and he attempted to discern what motive could possibly underpin her generosity.

"Well!" Bingley delighted at this unusually kind suggestion of his sister's. "Now that is a fine idea. What say you to it, Darcy? Do you think she will?"

"Oh, will she not wish to stay and see us?" Anne asked, innocently.

Silence descended on the table until Elizabeth broke in with a response.

"It is on my account, Anne, dear!" She laughed. "I am a little nervous to meet my new sister, and have thus been delaying our arrival at Pemberley. You see, Darcy was eager to go there straight away, and not tarry in London, but I insisted that I did so prefer to meet Georgiana on some neutral ground. I fear that she will see me as usurping her place, you see, and…" she glanced desperately at Darcy.

"Nonsense!" Anne laughed. "Why, Georgiana is the sweetest, kindest….William, you must convince your wife she is mistaken!"

"Of course she is!" Bingley said, realising a moment too late the true reason behind Elizabeth's words. "But…I do not wonder that it might not be opportune, nonetheless, to invite her to stay with us. We are but a few miles' apart and might see each other often. Will you write to her, Darcy?"

"Immediately," he said. "And you may set out ahead of us by a day or two, for I am sure Mr and Mrs Wickham do not wish to be uprooted entirely straight away." A glance at Wickham suggested that he did not object to leaving Scotland as swiftly as he arrived, but he would not say as much.

"I should like to see Pemberley again," Wickham ventured, at last, his voice low. "I have not been there in, oh, quite some years." He lifted his gaze to Darcy's, and silently communicated his thanks for such a suggestion. "It is good of you to invite us. I am sure Anne will benefit from the healthy air and being amongst her family once more."

"Then it is settled," Darcy said, with a tentative smile at Elizabeth. "We shall set off, together, for Pemberley."

 _The End_

 _A/N - Of course, not *the end* the end. This series has two more books to come (so 6 in total). Thank you so much for sicking with it so far, I hope you are still enjoying!_

 _Next time we find everybody in Derbyshire...I will be back here and posting again on Monday (hopefully) so stay tuned for the start of that._

 _Thank you so much for all the reads and comments, I so enjoy hearing from you even if I don't get chance to respond to everything. If you enjoyed this story (or any of the ones I've shared here) please do recommend them to other people. All my books are available for purchase too and over the next few months I'll be taking down some of the older books from here (including my Persuasion stories) and probably moving them over to my website - so if you are partway through reading here or want to finish before they go, you have chance now._

 _Alrighty. Have a great few days, guys. See you soon for book #5!_


End file.
